


Fall's Bride

by wandering_gypsy_feet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold in the Dark Castle, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fix-It, The Dark Castle (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 93,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27274399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandering_gypsy_feet/pseuds/wandering_gypsy_feet
Summary: Rumplestiltskin will trade, deal, and steal for a chance to get back to his son. That includes Belle, who possesses something he needs to find Bae. Rumplestiltskin takes her as his maid, until he realizes that she has the potential to be so much more. And in the process, he learns that sometimes the most valuable things can come from the unlikeliest of places.A canon compliant (mostly) fic of all of Rumbelle's time in the Dark Castle and how Belle brings Rumplestiltskin back to Baelfire.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Snow White | Mary Margaret Blanchard
Comments: 343
Kudos: 95





	1. do we make our choices or do they make us?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi friends welcome to the longest rumbelle story i've ever written
> 
> a few notes - i've done my best to stick within canon timelines and canon characterization, except where I've needed to deviate because quite frankly, canon is a mess. if you ever have any questions, please let me know! (i've spent too many hours researching timelines to not be proud of it.) 
> 
> updates will be saturday mornings, midwest time! 
> 
> all reviews are loved and appreciated! 
> 
> and i'm raginglittlehurricane on tumblr! 
> 
> that's all, please enjoy!

_Once upon a time, not so long ago, a baby girl was born....._

"And we're not naming her after your mother," Colette said tiredly, her curls loose and messy down around her bare shoulders. Maurice laughed and kissed her forehead, still staring in awe at the tiny bundle in her arms. 

"No, I wouldn't wish Doretha on her anyways," he muttered quietly, running one large hand over the tiny head of his daughter. "Or anyone, for that matter." 

"Are the courtiers upset?" Colette asked quietly but Maurice heard the fear there. This whole pregnancy had been that of a boy, or so everyone had predicted. Yet their firstborn was a little girl.

"No," he lied quickly. "A girl is fine. We'll have time for a son, my love." 

"A beautiful girl," Colette sighed, brushing away the chestnut lock of hair that poked out of the blankets that wrapped up their daughter, their princess, their heir. She was nothing more than big blue eyes and a tiny little rosebud mouth, as lovely as the first day of spring dawning beyond their windows. 

"Like her mother." he knew that duty would pull him away soon, but he couldn't stop staring in wonder at his little girl. A daughter. Not the son his advisors hoped for, but how could he feel anything but delight right now? 

"How about Belle?" Colette suggested. 

"That's not too on the nose?" Maurice replied with a small smile, like he wasn't going to give his wife anything she wanted in this moment. After the pains of her labor, his wife deserved the world. 

"No," she declared. "Belle. I feel like it suits her." in her arms, the little girl gave a mighty yawn and opened and closed her little hand, as though she was already speaking up in agreement. 

"Your majesties." the door opened to reveal everyone that had been held at bay; advisors, generals, courtiers, nursemaids, guards. They all peered into the royal bedchamber now, a sea of curious faces to remind him that his life was never his own. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered to his wife who was already straightening up and taking back on the mantle of queen. She always held herself like royalty, never mind that her head was bare of any crown and her ornate robes had been replaced with a simple nightgown. "And you too, Belle. For this will always be your life, one of duty." 

Then he rose up and was the king once more, his first moments as a father already snatched away. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Belle of Avonlea had only ever known happiness. 

At one, she took her first steps, an early learner if ever there was one. Colette pushed away the nursemaids and housekeepers, for she would be the one to catch Belle if she stumbled.

At two, she kept her parents enraptured with her smiles and laughter. There was nothing that did not make her beam and wave chubby fists around. Her blue eyes always sparkled with mischief. 

At three, she'd received her first pony and rode it, with a groom holding the reins, around the inner courtyard, squealing with glee, watched by two delighted parents. 

At four, she held chocolate puff pastries in the highest esteem. It seemed that no matter when she snuck into the kitchens in an attempt to steal some, the cook and all her assistants were looking elsewhere. No one saw a gleam of silken dresses darting out with as many pastries as her small arms could carry. 

At five, Belle preferred the company of her parents above all else. Nothing made her happier than to cuddle between the two of them in the evenings with a blanket and a book, her mother reading her stories while her father studied scrolls by candlelight. If the kingdom was slightly less well-run, both Colette and Maurice thought it a price worth paying. 

At six, it could be said that Belle was spoiled. But only, insisted her parents, because it was becoming more and more clear that she was the only child they were going to be blessed with. The long-awaited son never materialized. Belle was their hope. So who could tell her no? 

At seven, Belle became rather hard to handle. A lifetime of never being denied anything meant she had no other option but shock and anger when it did happen. Until Maurice took her into the villages and the hamlets, to be amongst her people. Then she understood that with all her privilege came duty. 

At eight, Colette insisted Belle have one last year of freedom. One last year to run amongst the trees and the flowers, to be carefree and joyful. Let her have these moments of plenty and happiness, she begged the court. Before she dove into the real life of a princess. Let her golden childhood last.   
  


At nine, Belle was forced to become the princess she had always been meant to be. She had tutors in all subjects and matters. She shadowed her father. She sat through meetings and was quizzed on their content afterwards. She surprised everyone with her fast progress. 

At ten, she had mastered the geography of Avonlea and all surrounding kingdoms. She could name their rulers and lineage going back a century. She had a better grip on the geo-political nature of their realm than most courtiers. 

At eleven, she could passably speak several languages and read and write in even more. She bypassed the young tutors straight out of their universities and instead was paired with the most learned scholars. Even the most cynical scholar she dazzled with her sheer will to learn. 

At twelve, the subject of matrimony was brought up to the princess. She didn't even raise her eyes from the thick, dusty tome she had her nose buried in. She knew the suitable bachelors of age and rank. She'd make her decision after she'd mastered the law and justice system of Avonlea. She figured that would at least buy her a few more years of peace. 

At thirteen, she skipped a ball in her honor in favor of standing on the tallest tower, inspecting the night sky for the most unique phenomenon that she'd calculated would happen just past midnight. The courtiers in the ballroom below whispered that she was indeed an odd one. 

At fourteen, she begged her parents to let her go and study under the brilliant new professor who had come up with the most interesting mathematical theory. They refused, on principle. Agrabah was too far and she was too young. Belle wondered, what was the point of being so educated if she couldn't go out into the world to use it? 

At fifteen, the old question was asked again. Who would she marry? Belle decided that it was time to turn her focus to military strategy. After all, their borders were more and more besieged by ogres every day. Perhaps she'd learn a strategy that would similarly fend off suitors. 

At sixteen, she was formally named the heir to all of Avonlea. The ceremony didn't carry the same pomp and circumstance as it once would've. The haze of the battlefield didn't reach the castle quite yet, but Belle knew it would. She tried not to tremble as a circlet was placed on her brow. Duty was all she knew, wasn't it? 

At seventeen, Belle walked the battlefield for the first time. She did not turn away from the blood and filth. The soldiers praised her for her visit, for bringing beauty into such a miserable scene. Belle did not feel like she was beautiful. Nor did she feel like she did enough. 

And at eighteen, Belle made the decisions that changed her life, forever. 

* * *

"Father?" Belle called, striding into the stables. If there was one thing she loved, it was an early morning ride before her lessons before the dew had a chance to lift. Spring was the best time for early morning riding. "Father, are you in here?" 

"I'm right here, Belle," her father called, turning around. She stopped in her tracks, blinking in confusion. For one, her father still wore his formal robes. And for two, her mother, notorious hater of horses, was standing beside him.

"We're supposed to go riding today," she said slowly, wondering what sort of trap she'd found herself in. Both her parents certainly appeared rather somber. Perhaps they were going to tell her some important news in the war, whether it be good or bad. Lately it had been too much bad and hardly any good. "Why aren't you dressed for it? And what is mother doing here?" 

"Plans have changed." her father was unusually serious. Belle knew that didn't bode well. "We have a visitor in the castle today. The eldest son of Lord LeGume."

Belle’s heart sank. Lord LeGume was wealthy, with more soldiers than any of the other lords. Soldiers that had yet to join the war against the ogres, to try and make any sort of difference in their fight. He had a son only a few years older than her and Belle had been bracing herself for this conversation - but she hadn’t imagined it would be so soon! Her 18th birthday hadn’t been more than a few days ago. Surely they wouldn’t demand she marry so young? And to the LeGume heir, who was notorious for a number of reasons, the worst of which said that he had bastards in every town in Avonlea. 

"Father, no. I do not want to meet any more suitors, especially not that cretin," she replied firmly, looking to her mother for support. Colette's face was purposefully blank, while her father just looked exasperated.

"So you know him?" her father had the audacity to sound hopeful. Rolling her eyes, Belle went to pick up the comb. Even if no one else was riding today, she certainly would be. That would put an end to this conversation. 

"Well, I know of him," she corrected, brushing her mare's forelock with slow strokes to hide the fact that her hands were trembling. "He's supposedly the vainest man in all the land. Fancies himself quite the hunter, both of animals and women." it was the nicest thing she could say about him. 

"At least give him a chance," her mother urged and Belle turned to look at her, betrayed. Colette's mouth was a thin line and for the first time, Belle noticed the wrinkles around her eyes. "Don't judge someone until you know their whole story."

"Well, I know enough," Belle insisted, turning to go. She'd fended off marriages to worse. This would be the same. 

"Belle, wait," her mother called and she stopped, but didn't turn back. She wanted nothing more than for this conversation to end, but she’d never heard such desperation from her before. It made her worry. 

"There's more at stake," her father said heavily. "On our northern borders, there have been even more skirmishes with the ogres. I know you've seen the battlefields." 

"Good men have died," Colette reminded her quietly and Belle swallowed hard as she slowly turned to face them. She’d never noticed the deep-set lines on her father’s face either. Ogres had plagued them for so long, but Belle had never truly felt fear for them. They’d never come deeper into their lands. 

"I know and that's horrible, yet--" she tried to start but her father cut her off, his face alight with hope now.

"But Lord LeGume has a powerful army. If you were to marry his son...." he began and Belle's heart sunk. This was more dire than she’d first imagined. Never before had that word came up; it had always been about courtship and suitors. But this?

"What, marry him?" she stared between her two parents, feeling as though they'd ask her to throw herself off a cliff. Surely that would be less painful. "Are you mad? Mother!" she turned, pleading now.

"She agrees with me," her father said hastily and Belle stared at her mother in horror. Sighing, Colette rose and came to take her hands. How had it all gone so wrong? Colette had been the one to tell Belle that she’d only have to marry when she wanted to, marry a man she felt was decent. From what she’d heard of Gaston, he would be the last thing to make her happy! 

"I'm not arranging a wedding, Belle. I simply want you to meet him," she urged quietly, looking in Belle's eyes. Belle blinked away her tears, wanting to pull her hands away but not daring. "We have to protect our people. You have a duty. And sometimes, an arranged marriage can become..... More." she looked to Maurice, who managed a tiny smile.

"Very well then." Belle sagged. Duty. It was the magic word. It was guilt, all wrapped into one small, neat punch. Her life was never her own. Her father reminded her of that every chance he could get. She owned it to her people. And if this was what it took to keep them safe, then Belle would just have to resign herself. 

However, she wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Surely there were other things to be done first. She could try to help beat back the ogres. The wedding could be delayed, if the need for his army wasn’t too dire. Belle just needed time to figure this out. Time, and a little bit of peace, and then she could -- 

"Am I too early?" came a voice from the doorway and Belle spun around, her heart dropping.

"You're right on time. Come in. Meet my daughter." Maurice welcomed the man into the barn as Belle tried to resist the urge to run headlong out of the barn in a manner most unbecoming of a lady. These could only be one man; she didn't need her father to name him to confirm it. "Belle, this is Gaston."

"It's lovely to meet you, Belle," Gaston declared, catching up her hand and kissing it. Belle fought not to tug it away. It wasn't that he wasn't handsome, because he was. Tall and broad shoulders, a sharp jaw and a full head of hair. Belle knew that there was much, much worse out there for looks. 

It was his eyes. Something about them she couldn't quite place, despite the fact that they were big and brown, shining with what seemed like confidence and good-naturedness. But there was something there, lingering in the deep. They made her shiver.

"Gaston, I've heard so much about you," she said, trying her best to be diplomatic. She didn’t tell him what she’d heard, but to her surprise, he didn’t get defensive. He shrugged those large shoulders, hands spread wide. 

"I'm sorry." he gave her a bashful smile, hanging his head before looking up at her, his voice lowered into a conspiratorial tone. "This is terribly awkward, isn't it? Do you hate these setups as much as I do?" 

"Well, since you're asking, yes." a bit caught off guard, she resolved that she would be frank with him. Even if he wasn’t what she’d been expecting. And perhaps he wasn't lying. Perhaps the rumors were just rumors and she was getting ahead of herself, yet again. Her mother was right; she was judging before knowing the full story. 

"I've heard you're a charming and intelligent young woman," he complimented her and Belle heard her father make a noise of satisfaction, even if she was unmoved by the remarks. "And you certainly live up to your name."

"But...." she said slowly, aware of hesitation when she saw it. 

"You've heard of me, and you're not interested in this, which is fine.” he waved a hand and Belle blinked in slight confusion. “I understand. If it is your wish, I shall turn around and head home." he gave her a boyish smile. "No hard feelings." 

It was a tempting offer. And one she dearly wanted to take. She could send him away and go on with her ride, then her lessons, then the rest of her life. Except when she glanced back at her parents with the words to dismiss him on her lips, she saw the hope shining there. The expectations rested heavy on her shoulders and when she closed her eyes, she could still hear the cries of the men fighting ogres and smell their blood as it soaked into the earth. 

Duty. Duty called. So she steadied herself with a deep breath and turned back to Gaston with what she hoped was a smile that didn't seem too forced.

"Actually.... one walk couldn't hurt anyone." she would give him that. She’d see if he’d prove the rumors true or if he really was as charming as he was clearly trying to be.

It was just a walk. It wasn't going to decide her fate or anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you think? get ready for more?


	2. fate ensnares those who do not believe in such

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> friends! i am so glad for those of you that have found this story! thank you for the love and support. 
> 
> only one note - this chapter is based on Bobby's comments during a panel that said he believes Rumple saw Belle before the events of Skin Deep and decided he would deal for her. That struck a chord with me and I would have loved to see it depicted. 
> 
> enjoy!

Rumplestiltskin had long ago learned to follow the threads of the future that he wove in his golden string. For so long, he had tried to fight it. He took the seer’s gift for the practical purpose of it, but then failed to use it. Out of what, spite? Hatred? But there were benefits to it. And once he learned how to manage it, to walk the line between blind belief and utter skepticism, he found how well it served him. The reason might not always be apparent. The purpose could be jumbled. 

Yet still, he went. 

It was not always convenient. It was not always fun. But there was usually a reward, if he was patient enough to see it. So why was he here, in some kingdom in the corner of nowhere? He didn’t know. But it had to be important to his fate, the gleaming gold had told him that much. And if it was important to him, it was important to Bae. Somewhere, something or someone here would help him get his son back. 

So he sat, invisible, high above in a tree. It was his custom to observe before all else. Many times, when he was still a relatively young Dark One, his impatience had cost him dearly. No. It was better to watch things pass him by and to only step in if it seemed like the sweetest of deals could be struck. He used information to fuel his deals, to learn how to twist things and find deepest desires. Was this talent a gift given to him by the Dark One, or had he had it in him all along? 

Was it because he knew desperation so intimately that he could deal so well in it? 

He chased the thoughts away. Being so close to the ogres and their wars always made him twitchy. It brought everything back, but it also focused him. All that mattered was Bae. Getting back to him. Something here would do that. He only had to keep his eyes peeled to see it. And as he sat and waited, he allowed himself to play the amusing little game of what it might be. 

The beetle, skittering beneath the leaves, was perhaps the most rare specimen that would be crucial to some spell or potion. 

Or maybe that mushroom, in the shade of the massive tree, could induce a fit of madness so strong that you would kill your True Love. He should pluck it, hide it away for a rainy day. 

Or maybe there would be some magical artifact, tucked away. He sent his magic out, a tiny curious pulse, to see if it would ping anything not shielded by protection spells. When nothing came back, he sat against the trunk of the tree and bided his time. Foolish, desperate souls crying out for his help across the realms would have to wait. 

The crack of a twig startled him out of his revere. Off in the distance, an ogre stumbled clumsily through the trees, angered and hungry and confused. Rumplestiltskin stayed still. His days of fighting ogres were long over and this was one hardly out of childhood. There was no malicious, wanton cruelty needed here. Then he heard the roar and the crash as it fell into a hidden pit. 

For a second, he was quite frozen. Was this what would provide him some valuable gift for the future? Or was he simply meant to watch, to note the outcomes and see what would happen here? He never said that being the Dark One was easy or came clearly. Half the time it was simply guesswork. 

The light of the day grew long, then twilight began to fall. He stayed, listening to the sounds of the young ogre in the pit, who seemed to be resigned to his fate and settling in for the night. He did the same, magicking himself a warmer cloak. Perhaps the pit would be checked in the morning and a foolish guard would suffer a mortal blow and beg the Dark One to save him, in exchange for…. Something. Eternal servitude or some juicy gossip or an object of great and unknown value. 

An imp could dream. 

The night passed without any moment of significance and the sun rose. It was almost mid-morning by the time anything happened again, just when he was beginning to think that he’d misunderstood all along and there was nothing more for him here. This time, it was two human souls he sensed in the distance and they were neither hurried nor hurt like the ogre had been. In fact, if he was correct, one was…. Apprehensive? And the other…. Well, the only word he could think of would be smarmy. 

"I have to say I'm impressed how far you've hiked. I suppose your perseverance is matched only by your beauty.” the male voice was deep, the kind that made young ladies swoon. He sharpened his vision ever so slightly and was unamused to note that the voice was matched with the looks; a strapping, handsome young lad. But Rumplestiltskin was an excellent judge of character, after so long weighing souls. He knew the prettiest of masks could hide the darkest of evils. 

"Really? Does that line work on all your first dates?” his companion with him was what caught and held Rumplestiltskin’s eye. This was Belle, princess and heir of Avonlea. He knew all the royals, as it was handy to keep track of who owed who, but he’d never thought to think twice about her. He realized his mistake now.

She wasn’t very tall, which was his first observation. She was made smaller by the bulk of her companion as well, who towered head and shoulders over her. Her dark hair was pulled back and braided and she wore fine, elegant riding clothes cropped close to her frame. He wondered why they were walking then. But the other thing that he had to reluctantly admit, was that she was beautiful. 

Beautiful. Not pretty, like some of the other princesses with their haughty sneers and refined manners. And not stunning, like Mal or Regina with their sharp cheekbones and jawlines and icy gazes. This Belle was…. Softer. Warmer. With rosy skin and sparkling eyes the precise color of a lovely summer's high noon, she looked quick to frown and quicker to laugh. Right now, she was frowning at her companion. 

"Have we moved from a "meeting" to a date?” Gaston asked, in a voice that might be charmingly teasing, if not for the insistence behind it. For some reason, Rumplestiltskin found himself gripping the tree so hard it was turning to pulp in his hands. 

"You know what I meant.” ah, so the apprehension was from Belle then. He mentally chalked a point in her favor for not falling immediately for the charms of Gaston, reluctant praise though it was. 

"I bet you think I'm the same Gaston as all the stories you've heard about.” humble pride did not suit the young man well. He walked with a swagger, hardly noticing that for every one of his long strides, Belle had to take two. 

"I must say I have heard some unflattering tales,” Belle stated politely, continuing her walk without alarm. Rumplestiltskin wondered, yet again, at the cause of him being here. Was it, perhaps, to make sure these two fell in love? Or rather, didn't? 

"Well, then I profoundly apologize. I have this friend LeFou, who loves to spread tall tales to embarrass me.” Gaston was really laying it on quite thick. Rumplestiltskin almost wanted to applaud him. Everything was right, from the humble slouch of his shoulders to the way he moved his hands. 

"Ah, so you're.... You're not this great hunter of women that I've heard so much about?” Belle’s tone was light but her words pointed and silently, he smiled. Really, what an amusing creature for a mortal. Apparently, she had more sense in her than all the other princesses rolled into one. 

"I hunt only wild game, I assure you. My love life has been tragically empty. Actually, I've spent my whole life looking for a woman of real substance.” he had a player’s timing, Gaston did. Rumplestiltskin rather thought to drop a branch on his head, but then Gaston went still. “Wait.” 

"What is it?” Belle asked, with concern, but Rumplestiltskin had heard it as well, turning his head towards the noise. The ogre had sensed their approach and was moving, trying to claw his way out of the pit desperately. Rumplestiltskin had watched him go at it for hours yesterday. A most futile endeavor. 

"Wild creature. Very large. Very close. Stay here.” after a moment, Gaston darted away, leaving Belle quite alone. That did not endear him any more to Rumplestiltskin; how did he know that she wouldn’t be in danger? A man was meant to protect, not to abandon her in the forest for the conquest of color. But Belle, apparently, needed no such thing. 

"Gaston? Gaston?” she called, clambering over the forest ground, not put off in the least that she might get dirty or undo her hair or even damage her fine clothes. He raised an eyebrow at that behavior. "Gaston! Gaston.” Rumplestiltskin watched silently as she found the man kneeling by the pit, looking into the dark with a grown.

"Well, I'm afraid this won't be much of a hunt. Whatever that was, it fell into this old hunting pit.” Gaston’s tone had a hint of bitterness in it, but then his eyes went wide. “Impossible,” he breathed and Rumplestiltskin sighed as the ogre moved into view, apparently thinking that the chance of getting out of the pit was worth this risk of revealing himself to whoever stood above. Gaston would not be the rescuing kind, he was rather sure. 

"What is it?” Belle looked into the pit, nearly teetering over the edge.

"War is closer than we thought. It's an ogre.” did he hear relish in the young man’s voice? 

"What? No. There's never been an ogre anywhere near the castle before,” Belle said firmly, before turning back to the pit and her face softened. The ogre had come fully into view, wringing its hands and squinting into the light. "Look at him. He.... He's barely full grown. He's just a child. Maybe he wandered too far from home.” oh, a princess with a soft heart. Rumplestiltskin only had a dime a dozen of those. He tried to summon annoyance, but found he couldn’t.

"Or maybe they're using their young as scouts and an entire army's following behind.” there was no mistaking the gleam in Gaston’s eyes now. "We have to haul him up and take him back to your father.” 

"What?” Belle looked shocked at the very suggestion, horror written across her lovely face. “No, we can't. We bring this creature back to the castle, the soldiers will torture him. We have to find another way.” Belle was quite firm in her opinions. He supposed it came of being a spoiled brat. However, he liked that she knew the realities of the hearts of men. He hoped she was bright enough to see the same in her companion, though he could not say why. 

"This isn't our decision. The whole kingdom could be at risk,” Gaston argued and Rumplestiltskin was surprised he didn’t just order Belle into silence and be done with it. Perhaps because he and the hulking man, against all odds, had shared a thought - Belle didn’t seem the kind to obey. 

"I know. And I realize you've only known me an hour, but if you trust me, I promise I can find out what this ogre's after without hurting him,” Belle implored eagerly. For a second, Gaston looked as though he would protest. Then he apparently remembered what a prize a king’s daughter was and schooled his features into an expression of grace. 

"Lead the way.” 

Yes, Belle would lead and Rumplestiltskin would follow them both. This was the most interesting thing to happen all day. 

Belle’s destination was a massive library within the castle walls, dappled in sunlight and warmth. Books lined every shelf, with tables and chairs spaced around for someone to sit and study at. Rumplestiltskin watched the way she moved through it with complete ease, her nimble fingers dancing along the spines of books the way one touched lovers and friends. Familiarity. So a bookish, compassionate princess. Those.... He had less of. 

Gaston followed behind her, ever the picture of an attentive suitor, but Rumplestiltskin saw the mask slip into boredom whenever Belle wasn’t looking. He almost wanted to reveal himself just to smack the man for the satisfaction of it. Clearly, there was more to Belle than just a pretty face and he found he hated that anyone would think otherwise.

“Ah, here, I found it.” Belle triumphantly plucked the volume and brought it to a table, placing the heavy tome and thumbing through it. All of her attention was on the book, rather than Gaston, no matter what he did to catch her eye.

" _'An Alphabetized Inventory of Magical Antiquities’_.” Gaston remarked, feigning interest when he realized she wasn't trying to impress him but was instead immersed in her research now. "Sounds a bit dense.” 

"No, this is a wonderful book. It's a record of every magical item in the kingdom,” Belle explained brightly and Rumplestiltskin forced himself to relax some. Yes. The book. Something in there, clearly, would be needed on his quest for his son. All he had to do was sit, and wait, for the pretty little princess to wander off with lumbering Gaston and he could peek inside to see what would best suit his needs. 

"And you think one of them will tell us what this ogre is after?” Gaston didn’t seem to put much faith in books. Rumplestiltskin had to give it to the young man, his character was quite consistent. 

"I'm sure of it. That's why my mother keeps these records... For emergencies like this.” Belle was scanning the pages, eyes flickering back and forth quickly. He wondered if she was actually reading at that speed or if she had the book memorized and was simply looking for the right place. 

"Your mother must be quite a woman to have raised a daughter with this much.... Fire in her.” if it was meant as a compliment, Rumplestiltskin heard the derision in it. It was only the merest idea that this could jeopardize his return to Bae that kept Rumplestiltskin from smacking him. Belle didn't pick on the tone, too distracted by her book and her search within it, only looking up after a few seconds had passed. 

"Well, she was the one who taught me to love books.” Belle chuckled, then reached for a well loved volume with a heavily cracked spine that had been set aside on their table. "Starting.... With this one.”

" _'Her Handsome Hero’_ ,” Gaston read from the cover. "Interesting. I wouldn't have picked you for a fan of cheap romance.” and neither would have Rumplestiltskin, who was annoyed that before, he'd held her to such a high standard. But wasn’t that the way it went? Women only wanted the young, the strapping, the valiant? He’d never been a hero. He’d never be a —

"No! No! This is not like that. This book is about compassion and forgiveness.... The things that truly make a hero.” Belle’s speech was so impassioned, Rumplestiltskin nearly reconsidered on the spot. Perhaps there was more to her. But those were still not qualities a Dark One possessed. Handsome and heroic he was not. "You, uh.... You can have it if you like.” she offered Gaston the book, almost shyly. Rumplestiltskin suddenly found it hard to swallow.

"If this is indeed your favorite book, I shall read every word.... Twice. Because I have a feeling.... I've finally found a woman of substance.” Gaston said grandly, clearly trying for the big gesture, leaning in towards her. "I…."

"Wait. Look. This is what we need.” when Belle leaned back, out of the reach of Gaston’s lips, Rumplestiltskin released a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. 

"Mirror of Souls?” Gaston said it with the enthusiasm of a man on the gallows but Belle didn’t notice. Her entire attention had been diverted to the book. 

"It says if someone has evil in their soul, it will be revealed in the mirror's gaze. Their eyes will glow with demonic fire,” Belle declared with clear delight. 

"So if we see no fire….” Gaston sounded as thrilled with the prospect as Rumplestiltskin was. He had three such mirrors at home. What was the point of all of this? 

"Then the ogre means us no harm. This mirror's but an hour's ride away. I can go now.” Belle shut the book and straightened her shoulders, filled with purpose and clearly not use to being told no. 

"Good. You can get the mirror, and I'll watch over the ogre. But promise me, in case this creature's not innocent, you'll bring back your father and his knights.” Gaston was back to playing the dutiful suitor. 

"I promise. And I'll see you soon.” Belle gave a little chuckle and then hurried from the library. Rumplestiltskin would’ve liked to go with her, but his instincts told him that whatever he needed would be best found by staying to watch Gaston. 

Pity, that. 

For a few moments, the man was still, evidently waiting to see if Belle came back. Once it was clear she wouldn’t, his mask of thoughtfulness dropped into a sneer. He tossed away the books and went striding out of the library, Rumplestiltskin trailing silent and unseen behind him. Gaston went straight for the barracks and Rumplestiltskin sighed. Why were mortals always so predictable? 

“You two, with me,” he ordered of the men waiting outside. On horses they mounted. Rumplestiltskin had no desire to chase after them in his leathers and boots. Besides, he knew exactly where they were going. So he transported himself back to his faithful tree, to watch what the young man would do. He had an inkling, but he hoped to be surprised. 

He was not. Gaston ordered the two men to throw ropes down. The ogre would think it was salvation. It was not aware of the second trap it would find itself in. If there was pity left in him, Rumplestiltskin might have felt it as the ogre clumsily crawled up and out, only to be attacked by the sword of Gaston. The other men bound him to a tree and the creature was tortured, crying out. Rumplestiltskin saw the pleasure on Gaston’s face as he raised his sword yet again and again, until the ogre was bloodied and the sun had traveled the distance of about two hours. Belle would be returning soon. 

“What now?” asked one solider, when Gaston’s brutality finally slowed. 

“Release him,” Gaston ordered, panting slightly. “He won’t get far, not with those wounds. And if he does, the blood will make him easy to track.”

“Sir—" one man tried to argue and was silenced by Gaston’s blade at his throat. 

“Then you will go back to the castle and speak of this to no one. When I’ve married Belle and this whole kingdom is mine, I will reward you with dukedoms. If you breathe a word of this, I will reward you with death.” the look that passed between the two soldiers was that of belief. “Now go.” 

Both Gaston and Rumplestiltskin watched them leave. Then Gaston carefully drew a dagger and carefully cut himself on the forehead, just enough for blood to gather there but unlikely to be deep enough to scar and ruin his good looks. He arranged himself artfully amongst the grass, as though knocked unconscious by a blow. Rumplestiltskin thought he’d wasted a talent for theater. 

It did not take long for the voices of Belle's party to reach his expertly honed ears. It wasn’t that Belle’s voice was sweetly distinctive. No. His already heightened senses were much more alert with a wounded ogre running around these woods. That was all.

"Gaston's keeping watch on the ogre, and this mirror will help us learn the truth of his intentions,” Belle was explained to the old king. "See, Father? The eyes don't lie.”

“I pray that you're right, Belle.” the old man sounded weary, swaying on the back of his war horse. Rumplestiltskin had never paid much attention to Avonlea, for it wasn't wealthy and it wasn't large, but he knew Maurice. A fine ruler, unlikely to make a mess of things but growing older and more put-upon by the day, ground down by the endless pace of the ogres. 

"Gaston? Gaston! Are you all right?” Belle had spotted her apparently injured paramour. Rumplestiltskin sneered at the way she rushed to his side. Perhaps she’d fallen for his looks after all.

"It feels like I still have all my limbs.” really, the dramatics were impressive. And Belle dabbing his forehead seemed to be the reward he set out for. Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes at her ministrations. 

"What happened?” Belle demanded in worry. 

"The ogre had escaped when I arrived. He was waiting in ambush,” Gaston lied and Belle looked up at her father, clearly startled. Again, Rumplestiltskin’s esteem of the man dropped. He’d knowingly set that thing loose with Belle in the forest. Had he no foresight to what might have happened? 

"Then you're quite lucky to be alive.” at least the king grasped the severity of the situation. 

"I am so sorry. This is.... This is all my fault.” Belle looked near tears. 

"It's all right, Belle. Seeing your concern makes it worth it," was the dramatic reply and oh, how he hated this oaf Gaston. He silently implored Belle not to fall for any of it. 

"Well, you two have had an interesting first day.” despite his warning tone, Maurice looked rather pleased with himself. "Head back to the castle. I'll gather my soldiers. We'll hunt this ogre down before he can do any more harm.”

"No, this ogre tried to kill me.” Gaston made a brave show of standing up, leaning heavily on Belle. "I should return the favor. If you would allow, I'd like to lead the hunting party myself.”

"You're a brave young man. If you feel up to it, the hunt is yours.” the king clearly was already set on having this one as a son-in-law, if the chuffed look on his face was anything to go off of.

"Then I'm coming, too. There's still a chance to use this mirror,” Belle declared, straightening up. Rumplestiltskin blinked, surprised at this. So her concern wasn’t for Gaston, but still the ogre yet? She _was_ rather baffling. 

"For what? We know this ogre's a monster,” Gaston argued and Rumplestiltskin revisited his earlier idea of a branch meeting a skull. Belle didn't seem overly fond of him like her father was and what harm could a good, strong concussion do really?

"Well, perhaps he was just defending himself,” Belle shot right back. Rumplestiltskin wanted to lift Gaston’s bloody sword in front of her eyes. What he could tell her, how he would explain everything to her in detail. Would she listen? The idea that she might made him shiver.

"Forgive her, Gaston. She gets this idealism from her mother.” the king did not sound pleased, but Belle didn’t balk at the tone. She turned to him, giving him an imploring look.

"Father. We must know the truth before we hurt him,” she begged, worry filling those oceanic eyes with tears.

"Go home, Belle. It's what's best,” her father stated. 

"Belle, it'll be fine. I promise,” Gaston vowed and Belle was silent. The minds of men were made up against her. What was she to do? Rumplestiltskin knew what he hoped she would do. And his mouth curved into a smile when, upon the men clearing out, she promptly went to her horse and made sure the mirror was tucked safely in there. Then she charged after them, hardly a thought for propriety. 

Rumplestiltskin didn’t join the chase. It took him no more than a breath to locate the ogre and magick himself there. There in the treetops, hiding pitifully, still hurt. He kept his distance, watching, as the hunt closed in. 

“Hold.” was the issued order as Gaston and his party rode into the clearing. 

"What is it? What's wrong?” the king demanded. 

"The ogre tracks stopped. Draw your weapons.” Gaston was remarkably quick witted for someone who’d sustained a head injury. Swords were unsheathed. “There!” he wheeled about, spotting the ogre high in a tree and loosened an arrow. With a cry, the ogre fell to the earth with a thud that shook the trees. "Don't let it escape! The thing about an ogre is you got to hit 'em right in the eye.”

“No!” Belle appeared from nowhere, standing between Gaston’s arrow and the creature. Despite himself, Rumplestiltskin readied to stay any shot with a breath of magic. Belle could not be hurt. He didn’t let himself think about why.

"What are you doing? Get away from that thing,” her father yelled but Belle stood firm. 

"I won't let you kill him without knowing the truth.” a fire in her he hadn’t expected. He wasn't sure why she so intrigued him. Perhaps because he had never met anyone so stalwart about protecting a monster. Perhaps.... Well, he didn't let himself hope beyond that. 

"It tried to kill me. And that's all I need to know.” Gaston raised the bow again, apparently uncaring at the danger he put her in by having her within the path of an arrow he might fire.

And Rumplestiltskin’s long still, long dark heart, skipped a painful beat when the bow was loosed. 

“No!” Belle thrust the mirror out in defense of the ogre and the arrow shattered it. Glass flew, slashing the ogre, but Belle remained unharmed. She stayed where she was, looking in horror at the bloodied creature. The marks were far too deep and too large to be from the glass, and the blood was dried and matted to him. He could almost see the gears turning behind Belle's clever eyes as she looked between the ogre and then Gaston, horror dropping her jaw. "He's.... He's hurt. What happened to him?” Belle demanded, but then she saw in the shattered mirror what Rumplestiltskin did as well. 

Red eyes, gleaming in the handsome face of Gaston. 

"Gaston. You.... You did this, didn't you? You tortured this ogre while I was gone," she accused, anger and disgust taking any sort of softness from her tone. Her lip was curled up in a sneer, an expression he oddly found mirrored on his own face. "That's.... That's why he attacked you.” oh, how smart she was. 

"I don't need an enchanted mirror to recognize a monster. I'm trying to protect this kingdom. Step aside.” Gaston drew another arrow. Rumplestiltskin prepared to snap his neck before he could send off another shot anywhere near Belle.

"This creature isn't the monster. You are. And if you want to shoot him, you'll have to shoot me first.” Belle was fit to spit fire and he wanted to cackle over her words, except now she really was in the way of the arrow. Rumplestiltskin watched, filled with mistrust for the young man, as Gaston lowered the bow and Belle, feeling safe enough to turn her back, looked at the ogre. Her pretty face softened into compassion and she nodded. The young ogre fled, safe from any arrows, into the night.

"You've made a fateful decision tonight. I just hope, for all our sake.... It was the right one.” Gaston stared at her with what seemed like barely repressed hatred and Belle stared back with similar loathing. Then, after a moment, she turned, alone, to her stead and mounted it, riding off into the quiet of the night without even waiting for her father. After a moment, soldiers and men followed with their king and Gaston last of all, still staring in the direction of the ogre. Then, with a shake of his head, he too left. 

Rumplestiltskin felt the grip of his fate slacken. A bit dazed, he stayed where he was in the tree. 

There was no magical artifact to collect, no desperate soul to save. No fungi, no creature, no nothing of anything. Except the sight of Belle’s flashing blue eyes and the way that her pretty mouth had twisted to show a will of absolute iron. The way he’d expected her to do one thing and she’d done the other. Protected something that most would deem unlovable. Without hesitation. Without reluctance. Without any sort of idea of what it might do, what it might cost her. 

Stupid, honorable girl. 

Blinking, he decided to walk for a bit. He wasn’t in a fit shape to magick himself anywhere right now. 

The girl had nothing to do with his fate. He was sure of it. 

Except when he wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are better than bread and butter! even if it's just letting me know your favorite bit or line.


	3. grief is not a wave but an ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've changed a few thing in canon but tried my best to keep it mostly consistent. if you ever have questions please feel free to ask!

Belle found sanctuary in the stables. She could no longer be in the library, since that was her mother's domain and each time Colette saw Belle, she urged her to reconsider. That Gaston wasn't all bad. That the mirror could have been wrong. That she should look past all that and marry him anyways, for the sake of this war and her people. She never ordered Belle outright. But the guilt was there. 

And the rest of the castle belonged to her father. He ordered her in private to accept the marriage. To deal with it. Gaston and his father remained at the castle, sitting in on war meetings but never offering support. It wasn't a great secret what it would take to get them to step in. But Belle refused. She couldn't forget the fiery red in Gaston's eyes and his willingness to kill an innocent creature. She couldn't forgive him for that. She just needed more time, to figure something out and -- 

"It's happened, Belle." her father's entrance was heralded by the shifting of the horses. Belle refused to look up from her book, perching comfortably in a sun-soaked window well. The key to winning the war, and thus avoiding marriage, was in the past. Surely the ogres had been defeated before. 

"What has?" she replied, squinting at old letters, worn from ages of use. The book was ancient and not well kept, half the ink faded directly off the page and gone forever now. What was that strange word there? 

"The eastern regions have been breached," said Maurice gravely, standing before her in all his broad glory and blocking her only exit. She'd be forced to have this conversation then. "Ogres are coming. It's war." 

"And you blame me," she said coldly, snapping the book shut. So she was another sacrifice? Except instead of knighthood when she returned from the wars, she was condemned to a life of slaving away at Gaston's feet? 

"Blame is not important now." Colette followed her husband into the stables, trying her best to appear calm and soothing despite the tightness of her eyes and her mouth. Belle worked to hold back tears. This was it then, if her mother was here. Individually, she could tolerate their guilt and shaming. But doubled up, she knew she didn't stand a chance. They'd wear her down into nothing, until she would agree. 

"What I did was the right thing," she insisted, a bit childishly. She just wanted them to take her side. She just wanted them to agree with her like they had when she was little, when she still thought the world was bright and shining and wonderful. A place of hope. She wanted to believe a moment longer. 

"It was foolish and petulant!" Maurice snapped before Colette could silence him. Belle shrank back, not from the anger in her father’s tone but more so from the surprise of it. She knew her father had a temper - it was the thing of legend with his generals and ministers. But he’d never turned that temper on her before. He quieted under her mother's shushing but lost none of her stormy expression and Belle knew more trouble was brewing. 

"No, no, I did what I had to to live with myself," she cried and Colette moved between the two of them in an attempt to encourage peace, while Belle stared at her father. She would not beg. She would not plead. But she could not hold back her tears either. 

"And now we're at war." Maurice looked away from her, the lines around his mouth deepening. It cut her to her very soul, to see disappointment in a father who'd only ever shown joy in her, but the pain was replaced by anger soon enough.

"Has it occurred to you that our mistreatment of their young could have caused this conflict, not my act of mercy?" Belle yelled, furious with him and Colette turned to grab her face, her eyes glistening with tears of her own. She'd not touched her since Belle had told her what she'd seen in the mirror and Belle felt some of her anger go out of her. She smelled like she always did, of roses and sunshine, so familiar and comforting. 

"The reasons why no longer matter," she whispered, stroking Belle's cheek, her lips trembling. "What does is that we must do what it takes to save the kingdom. Duty, Belle. We need you.... To do your duty." 

Belle exhaled, hard, and closed her eyes to stop the tears. After a long pause, she forced herself to nod. As always, her mother had a point. Hard to accept may it be, it was still a good point. Belle had been training her entire life to do her duty. Would marrying - and living with - Gaston be harder than ruling her kingdom? She lifted her eyes to her father’s back, pity mixed with resentment and fear in an unholy trio of unpleasant emotions. "I'm sorry, Father. I'm.... Sorry that it's come to this."

"I'm sorry, too. Our army is no match for theirs," Maurice said bitterly, still turned away from them. Belle, guilt settling in now, went to touch his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him like she had when she was little.

"What will we do?" she asked him, hoping for a different solution, and then realized, too late, her mistake in approaching him instead of keeping a safe distance. He looked at her, light in his eyes for the first time. Light she hadn’t seen since he’d introduced her to the most eligible suitor.

"Gaston's kingdom.... Their army could give us a fighting chance." he looked so hopeful, but Belle only felt the ironclad punch to her gut. There really was no other choice or she’d have found it by now. 

"You think.... They would assist?" the words tasted like ash in her mouth. There was no avoiding this. It was going to happen. 

"With the right bit of diplomacy, perhaps." Colette took her hand and stroked her hair. The gesture was meant to be soothing but all Belle felt was rising bile in her throat and fought every instinct to throw her mother off and go running into the woods for some bit of wild sanctuary.

"You want me...." Belle trailed off, unable to say the words. She looked between her parents, the last bit of hope fading. There was no way out. No more clever tricks. No more strategies or maneuvers. 

"He still wants your hand, Belle. It could end the war," Maurice tried to reason but it was Colette's gentle squeeze that got Belle's attention through the ringing panic in her ears at how quickly this was happening. 

"You'd be our hero," she whispered and Belle nodded numbly. She'd wanted to be a hero since she was a child. She'd been raised with the expectations of sacrificing her own wants and needs for her people. What more could she do? 

"Has your father told you the good news?" Gaston entered the stable as though he’d been cued, still as handsome as ever. How could something so cruel hide beneath something so lovely? "Our kingdoms will unite, and we will defeat this threat. And you will one day be sovereign over a land far greater than has ever existed. We will rule side-by-side... if you will be my queen."

There was no choice. There had never been a choice. The freedom of the first 18 years of her life had all been an illusion. She was to be a bride, then a broodmare, then nothing more. Gaston would rule and ignore her, but the price otherwise was death for her subjects and a lifetime of disappointment and despair from her parents. So she hardly heard the words she said next. 

"I will." 

And like that, it was done. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Belle anticipated her engagement being a disaster. As it turned out, it rather wasn't. Her father, perhaps as a bit of mercy, sent a very willing and eager Gaston to the front. Gaston led his armies against the ogres and Belle only felt slightly guilty about her hopes that he would not return. 

She made peace with her mother sooner than she'd have liked to. Her father, she was still angry with and refused him anything more than polite, detached affection. But Colette was her friend and confidante as well as her mother and so Belle forgave her. Besides, there was too much to do to be mad. She had her duties, after all. 

The ogres were barely slowed by Gaston's forces. Every day more ground was lost and it was barely a month after her engagement that her father sent word. They'd be moving to the Winter Palace, which was more secure and further from the battlefields. It was also a fraction of the size of the Summer Palace and hadn't been attended to since their last visit which was before the wars began. 

Belle's lessons were over. Instead of philosophy and calculus, she was in charge of grain storages and counting chickens. She loaded wagons beside her own servants. She stitched cloaks and folded sheets like a common maid, and it was humbling to remember that these people were who she was trying to save in the first place. 

The courtiers tried to hide the reports of how close the ogres were marching from her, but Colette told Belle anyways. Just two days ago, she'd sent the last of the servants and the entire court away. Now it was just her and Belle, desperately trying to pack up the last of their valuables in their beloved library. 

"Books?" the guard looked ready to explode. "Your majesty. Ogres are on our very doorstep and we wait for _books?_ " 

"Well, the food had to be packed first," Colette explained calmly, making several stacks. "But with that taken care of, yes, I am going to be saving books. Take these trunks, please, and send guards back for more." 

"Do you want genealogy or herbology?" Belle yelled, ignoring the quakes and trembles from outside. Her mother was right. These books mattered and the ogres wouldn't be able to get past the walls anyways. Belle could replace dresses and jewels and tapestry. She could not lose this knowledge. 

"Oh, herbology would serve us better, but that book is priceless," Colette remarked and Belle shoved both books into a trunk and raced for the shelves once more, a squeak of terror when there was a loud boom, closer than all the rest.

"The wall.... It's fallen," Belle heard a new soldier yell and she stifled her panic. How had that happened? How had they gotten so close, so quickly? "We must leave now. The town will soon be overrun!" 

"These books are too valuable to leave to those monsters," Colette said, still grabbing a few more volumes. Her mother's courage lended itself to Belle and she focused on the books on the shelf, trying to make a frantic assessment of which to absolutely not leave behind. 

"My lady, please," he begged, an echo of utter desperation in his voice, and Belle looked frantically at the last of the titles before her, realizing with a jolt that the most familiar of all was amongst them, overlooked in their mad dash. 

"Take these trunks to the carriage. I'll be just behind you," Colette ordered, ever the queen. 

"And your daughter?" the man demanded and Belle snatched up the book, clutching it close like an old friend. 

"I will find her. Now go." the lid of a trunk slammed shut and Belle heard the grunting of men as she wove through the shelves back to her mother. For the first time, when she raised her voice there was a lilt of fear there. "Darling, we must leave, quickly! Where are you?"

"I'm right here, mother!" panting, Belle reached her, showing her the book she'd chosen to save. A green jacket with silver lettering. She was ever so glad Gaston didn't have it and that she'd found it. It was an heirloom for her, worth more than any jewel. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't leave without this. It's the first story you ever read to me, remember? It's what made me fall in love with books."

"Of course I remember, my Belle." Colette's eyes crinkled into a soft smile, the same one Belle remembered from all her childhood, curled up beside a fire to read. Then the fear was back, as the whole castle shook from the siege. "Quickly, we must flee before...." a crash rang out, then a guttural roar unlike anything she'd ever heard before. Belle's stomach dropped out. There was no mistaking the proximity.

"They're here," she realized in horror, but already her mother was dragging her away from the door. 

"We will hide till they pass," Colette said firmly, guiding her under a table. Belle huddled into her side, Colette gently stroking her hair and whispering that it would all be alright. There was no time for Belle to think anything else. 

The beautiful old doors of the library burst open, shattering on their hinges. Belle, who knew how old and expertly carved they were, would have shed a tear for their loss, except she had no tears. Only terror, at the sight of a massive giant in the doorway. Dull, greyed skin that was thick and crisscrossed with scars. Huge, bare feet the size of grain carts and hands like dinner tables. The smell was awful, like something gone rancid in the sun, but worst were the eyes, the lack of anything like humanity there. 

"Ogres," she breathed and Colette's grip on her tightened. 

"Shh! It's going to be alright," she whispered, as the creature stalked into the room. Belle wanted to believe her mother, except she was trembling from head to toe, same as Belle. Hardly believing this was real, Belle watched in sick dread as the creature slowly came their way. 

Then, with a speed that was shocking for its size, the ogre snatched away the table, leaving them exposed. Belle heard her mother's scream and closed her eyes, knowing that this was it, it was the end. She braced herself for pain and --

With a gasp, she awoke. She looked around frantically, panic overcoming her at the unfamiliar surroundings of bare walls and cold floors before her mind managed to place them. It was not her bedroom, but it was a bedroom at the Winter Palace. Shaking, she patted herself down. All her limbs. Nothing major was missing. Except that she was wearing her mother's pearl necklace. That seemed odd. 

Still unsteady on her feet, she rose and pulled on a dressing gown, hardly caring if she was decent. She couldn't remember a thing. How did she get to the Winter Palace? What had happened, after the library? Where was everyone? 

She padded, on bare feet, down towards the throne room. There was no hustle and bustle she’d become accustomed to; she didn't even see a single servant. Bewildered, wondering if this was all still a dream, she opened the doors for the throne room, stopping when she saw the black-clad crowd gathered there.

"Mother?" she asked, in a tiny voice. _No._ Let this all still be a dream. Let this all still be a dream. Let this -- 

"Belle?" the crowd parted before her father like a sea. There he stood, in black mourning dress, staring at her in shock. "Why aren't you in bed?" 

"What happened?" she demanded, approaching him. "Where.... Where is Mother?" she had to know. That ogre had been so large, so terrible, so awful, Belle needed comfort from her mother. 

"You mean, you don't remember?" her father's face softened from grief to pity.

"Remember what?" she asked him in bewilderment and he caught her arm before he stepped aside so that she could see the coffin. Tears sprang to her eyes as her knees gave out and her father was forced to catch her. 

"No!" she cried, anguished. The court around her muttered and murmured, but Belle didn't hear a thing as she was carried away by her father and the physician, limp with grief, oblivious to anything beyond the terrible ache in her soul. 

* * *

She thought her memories would resurface in a few days. That it was simply the trauma that was blocking them. But as she rested, they stubbornly refused to come. The closest she ever came to remembering was the feel of her mother shielding her and then - nothing. 

She couldn't focus on anything else. They brought her different soups and broths, to build her strength back up, but she ignored it all. She wanted to know what happened to her mother. Somehow, it seemed that if she knew, she would understand. And somehow, understanding meant that her mother could come back. 

"It's late. You should be in bed," her father remarked, after a month of Belle's fevered searching. 

"How can I possibly sleep when I can't even remember what happened to my mother?" she asked him without taking her eyes off the book. She knew they all thought her mad and she was inclined to agree with them. 

But she simply couldn’t stop. 

"Perhaps that's for the best," he suggested in as gentle a tone as he had lately. Belle knew he had grief of his own, monstrous and overwhelming like hers. But he hadn't been there, he wasn't the one who couldn't remember.

"No!" Belle snapped the book shut in frustration, then worked to calm herself down and speak normally. It would do her no good, to keep appearing insane. "I need to know what happened to her after I blacked out," she tried to reason. Her father looked away, angered as always by the reminder of their grief but Belle didn’t care. How could he not see how this was eating at her? The last moments she had with her mother and she couldn’t even remember them! 

"You won't find the answers you seek in the pages of a book," he sneered, but Belle saw the sadness there. She knew that it was the answer her mother would've given.

"But I already have, father," she tried to encourage him, opening the book back up so she could show him. This was a line of research she’d been going down for some time and she thought it had promise. "According to this, there are creatures who can restore memories that have been lost. If we journey to them, maybe they can help me remember what happened to my mother."

Maurice's tone was flat. "I can't allow you to do that."

"Why not?" Belle demanded, a little annoyed. It seemed like the perfect solution. Surely he wouldn’t deny her this simply to spite her? He couldn’t be that angry with her. Colette’s death was because of the ogres. And the ogre's advancement was because of Belle. The thought made her shiver. 

"Because there's something this book doesn't tell you." Maurice was stone faced, the lines on his face deeper than she’d ever seen before. "Magic always comes with a price. And whatever that price is, I don't want you to have to pay it. I'm sorry, Belle, but I've already lost your mother to this infernal ogres war. I can't lose you, too."

"But father...." she tried to reason, to protest, but her father would have no part of it.

"You heard me! No!" she froze at the unexpected flare of his anger. "Forget this nonsense! You are not to leave this chamber until the doctors say you're better!" he left with a slam of the door and Belle stared at it in horror. Without her mother, Belle had no way of reasoning with him. Her mind already made up, she turned back to her book. 

"I'm sorry, father, but I need to know what happened. And this... Is the only place where I'll find the answer," she muttered, smoothing out the map, a flicker of hope keeping her chest warm. "Arendelle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be honest with you guys, this chapter and the next are the last of the 'before' action. stick with it - rumple is coming i promise! 
> 
> reviews are the greatest love a friend can give!!!


	4. the places we go, the places we roam, the places we call home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hand to my heart, we're getting to the rumbelle. 
> 
> just to note that i'm trying to follow canon here in regards to timeline/dialogue, but added some things in to make it work a little better. 
> 
> reviews are love!

It was easier than she thought to get away from the castle. With the ogres approaching every day, soldiers and men were always coming and going. The servants were always preoccupied with fortifications or stores for the winter. Belle simply had to wait until a ship arrived in the harbor bringing goods for trade and then slipped down to the docks, paid an uncaring first mate for passage to Arendelle, and then waited below deck during the five day voyage. Even she was slightly alarmed at how smoothly it went. It was like she had a fairy godmother or something.

"Excuse me," she asked a woman on the dock cleaning fish. She was still unsteady on her legs after a few days on a rocking ship. And it was incredibly strange to be in a new land, one untainted by the destruction of ogres. "Where can I find the rock trolls?" 

"Rock trolls?" the wizened old woman looked up from the fish, astonished as though she hadn’t heard Belle correctly. "Rock trolls?"

"Yes. I’m looking for them because I read that they can restore memories and such." Belle dug around in her knapsack for the book to explain it better but the woman was already back to her trout, Belle no longer holding any sort of interest for her. 

"You'll want Oaken's then." 

"Oaken's?" Belle asked in confusion and the woman jerked a thumb over her shoulder. 

"You'll know him when you hear him. All the way up the hill, then left." 

"Oh, uh, thank you." Belle hesitated then clumsily dropped a few coins at her feet for her trouble. The woman was cackling behind her as Belle started into town. 

The woman hadn’t led her astray however. Belle climbed the hill, pointed in the right direction several times by friendly people. She decided it was safest not to mention the rock trolls and instead focus on this Oaken, which turned out to be a little general store, rather in the middle of nowhere.

"Yoo-hoo!" came a loud voice the second she opened the door. Belle jumped then found the source, a ruddy-cheeked ginger man at the counter who was beaming at her as though he hadn’t just bellowed at the top of his lungs. 

"Oh, hello." she had to calm her racing heart. "Are you Oaken?" 

"Of course," he said proudly and Belle breathed a sigh of relief, going to the counter. Just a little longer and this would all be sorted. 

"I'm looking for the rock trolls," she said brightly and the same confusion clouded his face that she'd seen from the lady on the docks. 

"You want to find trolls? You know they're dangerous, yeah?" he narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, no, no, no. Rock trolls, not bridge trolls." she realized the confusion and Oaken brightened considerably. 

"Oh, yeah, they're quite nice."

"So, you can.... You can direct me to them?" she asked carefully.

"No. I've never met them. Yoo-hoo!" he noticed there was another customer in the store, but Belle didn't care. She was desperate. She gave the map a little shake, like that was going to help. 

"But you just said they were nice."

"I've heard," he corrected her and she felt the now-familiar tears prick the back of her eyes. This was her only chance. If this failed as well, she’d never remember the last moments of her mother’s life.

"Please help me," she begged. "I just lost my mother." and so much more than that. 

"Oh, I'm.... I'm so sorry," Oaken said, with genuine remorse. "But, uh, trolls can't bring life. But I can help soothe you. Have you tried the sauna?"

"Uh, no, no. Thank you.” this whole journey was a waste of time. Who was she, to think that she’d be able to pull this off? She was a spoiled princess from a war-torn land. She was useless. Failure flowed through her, hot and uncomfortable. 

"Need some help?” came a kind, sweet voice and Belle turned to find a young woman, about her own age, smiling at her. She was short, with auburn hair in two neat braids and a wide smile on her face that had a warmth about her that Belle immediately trusted. And she wasn’t trying to tell her about a sauna, so Belle took her best shot.

"Uh, well, I was trying to find my way to the rock trolls, but this map is not being too helpful,” she told her, walking over to show the map to the girl. It was torn from the pages of Belle’s book and pitifully small with no details. The girl glanced at her, then back to Oaken, before her face broke into a grin.

"Oaken means well,” she promised, while the aforementioned man gave an affronted yell of - “Yeah!” - behind them. "But you don't need him or a map. I can help you. I'm on my way to see them. Come with me,” she offered confidently. Belle’s eyebrows shot up, startled by the generous offer and turn of her luck.

"Really? Thank you. Uh, I'm Belle.” she stuck her hand out and the other girl grabbed it with a rather vigorous shake.

"I'm Anna."

"Friend of Anna’s?” Oaken perked up. "Half price on the sauna.” 

“C’mon.” Anna looped her arm in Belle’s and brought her out of the shop. She turned Belle down a well-worn path into the forest and for a moment, Belle wondered if this had all been a terrible mistake. Then Anna spoke again. "So, Belle.... I couldn't help overhearing.... Well, actually, I could, but I'm naturally curious. Anyway.... I heard you lost your mother.”

"Yes, in the.... In the ogres war.” it still didn’t feel real. Belle briefly closed her eyes, trying to fight back the wave of grief and anger, the memory of the ogre above them. Anna gave her arm a gentle squeeze and brought her back to the present.

"I'm so sorry. I lost mine, too. There are no words.” for the briefest of moments, the bright and sunny smile on Anna’s face slipped and Belle saw the deep sadness there. 

“No, there aren't, especially when you don't know what happened.” Belle was heartened by the fact that Anna was here. They felt like kindred souls. Perhaps this was all meant to be, so she ventured out a bit further on a limb. "I was hoping the rock trolls could restore my memory so that I can finally be at peace.”

"Sometimes the answer isn't what you want,” Anna said heavily, as they carried on up the trail through the dappled sunlight.

"Which is what?” Belle asked curiously. 

"One that makes you feel better,” Anna said sadly before she brightened slightly. "But if Grand Pabbie can help you get what you need, I'll make sure he does.”

"Thank you,” Belle told her honestly and Anna gave her another smile and a squeeze, before launching directly into a story that involved reindeer poop, candied yams, and the wonders of flight. She didn’t run out of stories the entire climb, until the trail ended at what looked like a small rockslide. Belle paused to catch her breath, glancing at her new companion. To her slight alarm, Anna looked as apprehensive as Belle felt. 

"Uh... So, now what?” she asked her and Anna seemed startled out of her thoughts, grabbing an ice pick from Belle’s pack.

"Now we climb,” she declared, before securing the pick in the rocks. With a heave, she tried to pull herself up but the pick came loose and she tumbled back down. Belle lurched forward with a gasp.

“Are you alright?” she demanded and Anna’s eyes fluttered as Belle helped her to sit.

“Oh.” she sounded woozy.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey.” carefully with Belle’s help, Anna managed to get back on her feet, giving herself a little shake.

"Kristoff makes this look easy,” she remarked, brushing herself and Belle knelt to pick up a strange contraption that had been shaken out of Anna’s pack in the fall. It was golden and heavy with strange symbols engraved on it. It felt odd in Belle’s hands, like it was humming somehow.

“Here." she offered it to Anna, who gasped. 

"Careful! Careful.” Anna gingerly took the thing back, like it was going to bite her.

"Why? What's inside?” with the object disappearing safely into Anna’s bag once more, Belle didn’t feel fear. Just curiosity. 

"A hat which can strip the magic from the most powerful of sorcerers,” Anna told her grimly and Belle’s eyebrows flew up.

"Why do you have such a thing?” Belle asked her, rather startled. 

"I sort of stole it from an evil sorcerer when I was back in the Enchanted Forest,” Anna admitted and Belle smiled at her new friend’s boldness. "I went to him to help with my sister, but things didn't exactly go according to plan."

"Why? What happened?” she asked, already thinking about magic and powerful men. Was that what her home needed? After all, there was a rumor that a sorcerer had stopped the ogres before, but that had been centuries ago. It was nothing more than a legend. "Who is this person?"

"I'd really rather not get into it. The less you know, the better. I just pray you never cross paths with that twisted man,” Anna said darkly, then readied herself to climb once more.

They scrambled up the incline together, laughing and holding hands when they needed to. Belle was out of breath by the time they got to the top but so was Anna and they both leaned over, winded. Anna massaged a stitch from her side then gestured for Belle to follow her towards an odd, circular clearing. 

"Here?" Belle asked, upon seeing nothing and Anna nodded, before calling out,

"Grand Pabbie? Grand Pabbie, it's me!" 

"Ooh, Anna, my dear, you're back!" Belle stifled a gasp when a strange little creature rolled in front of them. What she’d mistaken for random boulders was actually a rock-creature with a moss cape and jewels strung around his neck. But he had a kind smile and eyes, almost grandfatherly. "Have you come to tell us the new wedding date? I have been working on my speech." 

"Not yet, but we can get into that later. First, I want you to meet my friend Belle." Anna beckoned her forward and Belle approached slowly. "She's come a long way to see you."

"It's an honor to meet you." she knelt to shake his hand. It was oddly warm. "I'm, uh.... I'm here because I...."

"I know. I can help you get the memories of your mother." he gave her a knowing look, then raised a hand. Belle's forehead suddenly felt cold, like it was covered in a cool cloth. When she opened her eyes, the troll was holding a faintly glowing purple rock. "Take this to the place where you lost your memory, then brew a tea with the stone in the kettle. When you drink it, your memories will return," he instructed her and Belle took the stone with reverence. 

"Thank you," she told him, tone hushed in awe. She twisted to look up at her new friend. Anna had a soft smile on her face, happy for Belle’s success. "And.... Thank you, Anna. I owe you, as well. How can I repay you?"

"You don't have to. Having a new friend is payment enough." Anna's smile was so warm. "All I need is a moment alone with Pabbie. I'll be quick," she promised and Belle nodded, weaving her way back through the rocks strewn around. After seeing how Grand Pabbie had emerged, she gave the rest of the trolls wide berth. She was just observing the pristine landscape while rubbing the stone when she heard Anna's alarmed yell from behind her. 

"Belle, we have to go!"

"What? Is everything alright?" she asked her with worry and Anna marched back down the path, her usually kind eyes now blazing with anger and her mittens bunched into fists. 

"I don't think so. It's my aunt. She's up to something." she had a grimly determined set of her shoulders and Belle quickly rose to her feet to follow her away from the trolls. 

The walk down the mountain was much quicker than the walk up. Belle was bolstered by the warmth of the stone in her grip and Anna would stop at nothing to help her sister. Belle was an only child, but she could imagine how close the sisters were. 

"I wish I didn't have to wait to use this," she remarked, staring at the stone as Anna led her along the edge of the mountain they’d climbed. This way was more direct, she’d informed Belle, but dangerous. Belle had agreed, knowing how badly Anna wanted to return to her sister. But now, as she looked over the edge of the cliff, she had some regrets. 

"You'll be home before you know it. As soon as we get to town, we'll put you on the first ship back to the Enchanted Forest," Anna said confidently, navigating the thin path.

"If any ships are even setting sail," Belle remarked with worry. The beautiful day was disappearing; the sky darkened, a chill wind kicking up. "It.... Looks like a storm's setting in."

"I don't think it's a storm." Anna was looking out in horror at the clouds.

"Well, what else could it be?" Belle asked her in confusion and Anna glanced at her, biting her lip, concern written across her face.

"My aunt. I don't think my aunt wants me to tell my sister what I found out."

"Well, if she.... Has all this magic and.... And you have, well, good intentions, then what are we gonna do?" she just wanted to get home. She just wanted to use the stone and remember her mother. But what if something else terrible happened?

"I have more than good intentions! I have this!" Anna triumphantly pulled the device out, giving it a bit of a shake. "She can't hurt us if she doesn't have magic." 

Belle wanted to ask her what the plan was, but then the words were snatched from her mouth in a yell as the wind gust blew her and Anna apart. Belle hit a rock, hard, and felt her stone slip from her fingers, landing on the edge of the cliff. Behind her, a scream. 

"Belle! Belle! I can't pull myself up!" when Belle raised her head to look, it was Anna, just barely dangling over the edge of the cliff. To Belle's horror, it seemed like she was slipping. 

"Just hold on! I'll be right there!" she yelled back, glancing back at the stone. This was it. Her only chance. The last bit of her mother she would ever have. 

"Belle, hurry! Please!" Anna's cry was pained and Belle stretched her fingertips out, trying to get to her stone. Her desperation made her clumsy and with a cry, the stone rolled over the cliff and shattered below, Belle's hope going with it.

"Oh!" she gasped, tears stinging her eyes with the wind. 

"Belle, hurry!" Anna urged again and Belle briefly closed her eyes. It was done. 

"I'm coming! I'm coming." she scrambled up, diving for where Anna dangled. She scrambled for purchase, but before she could, Anna's grip slipped through her fingers and she was gone and Belle screamed for her - "Anna!" - but her torment wasn't over yet. There, coming for Anna was a tall woman, dressed in all white. Belle thought of the aunt Anna was so terrified of. Her voice raised in terror. "Leave her alone!" 

"You'll have to excuse us, but this is family business," the woman said coolly and with a snap of her fingers, they both vanished. Belle, her vision blurry with tears yet again, laid her head against the cool stone and sobbed for a second loss in as many minutes. 

  
  
  


* * *

How Belle got back to the docks was rather a mystery to her. She walked, dazed, back down the path she'd taken up with Anna. It hadn't been so long ago, had it? And now she'd let Anna down, the same as her mother. 

Tears blurred her steps.

There was another ship heading back to Avonlea. When Belle booked passage, the man took one look at her tearstained face and made some quip about a jilted lover and running away. Belle let him think that. It was better than admitting that she was some form of cursed - anyone she let into her life seemed to disappear. 

Her lodgings for her return voyage consisted of a small hammock strung from the rafters and a barrel that could be used as a nightstand. She was away from the crew quarters, which was nice, so she set her bag down and sat in the hammock, wiping away her salty tears. 

"I never should've left home," she whispered to herself, as a fresh wave of guilt and grief washed over her. First her mother. Now Anna. How much more could she lose? With a sigh, she decided to clean herself up. What was done was done. She would have to find peace, memories or not. So she strode back up to the deck. She might never have a chance to sail again and the least she could do was learn something. 

She watched as the crew got the ship ready to depart the docks, leaving behind Arendelle. She asked a sailor to show her how to knot the lines and he did, a bit bemused at the idea but then showing her around the ship, enthusiastically pointing out things of interest. 

The moon was nearly halfway across the sky when Belle collapsed back into her hammock. She was trying to exhaust herself so that she would fall asleep sooner, hopefully eased along by the gentle rocking of the ways now that they were officially out to sea. 

Except something was poking her in the ribs. Frowning, Belle shifted around until she could locate it. The object in question was a small, dense book. The former occupant of the hammock must have left it. Straining to read it in the flickering candlelight, Belle managed to make out the title. 

_'Of Sorcerers and Witches Past'_

"An odd book to leave behind," she muttered to herself, flipping through the pages. She wasn't that tired, after all. And a spot of reading had always done wonders to put her mind at ease before bed. She scooted closer to the candlelight and brought the book closer to her face. 

To her disappointment, it all seemed to be in a language that she'd never learned to translate. Here or there, words seemed almost familiar. Wondering if that was the reason someone had chosen to leave it behind, she was about to give up when she came across a section that someone had been translating. It was about a man - Zoso - and his mighty, great power, that -- 

The translation cut off. With a huff of annoyance, she flipped to the next page and stopped when she realized that this section had also been translated, but in its entirety. The name at the top was long and convoluted and strange; Belle frowned as she tried to sound it out. 

" **Rum** -ple-stilt-skin?" she mouthed. "Rump-le- **stilts** -kin? Rum- **ples** -tilts-kin?" 

It looked like nonsense. But as she read the paragraph she felt her hesitation give way to something like hope. This Rumplestiltskin, however it was said, was the most powerful being in all the realms. He could do anything - charm someone into an animal, grant wishes, and fend off entire armies. The only thing he couldn't do, it seemed, was bring back someone from the dead. 

But Belle's mother wasn't really dead, she was sure of it. She just.... Needed to remember. 

Excitement drove away any notion of sleep. She eagerly devoured the words, her heart racing. He was the legend, the one who defeated the ogres centuries before with his magic. This was the solution. This was how she'd save her kingdom. Of course, the book also mentioned that he could be an impish trickster and that his help always came with a price. Belle knew that while her kingdom wasn't overly rich, they had resources enough. And anything was worth saving her people. 

"And calling his name three times will summon him...." she read the very last line and then froze. Hadn't she done just that, earlier? Said his name three times? She peeked over the top of the book into the belly of the ship, half-expecting a vicious monster to spring forth from the shadows. But there was nothing, just the gently creaking timbers and the lumpy shapes of the cargo around her. 

Obviously her pronunciation was off. She turned back to her book and read through it once more, feeling the weight of this knowledge sinking in. It was the best thing for her people. She would return home and tell her father that they must make a deal with him. And perhaps, she thought as she dozed off into sleep with the book nestled to her chest, this Rumplestiltskin might be able to help with her memories. 

Sneaking into the castle turned out to be as easy as sneaking out. All Belle had to do was grab a few loaves of bread to tuck under her arms and in she went. Shaking her head, she thought about telling her father to review their security when she let herself back into her room and froze, seeing her father sit by her fireplace. He looked up at her noisy arrival.

"Belle." 

"Father, I...." she struggled to play this off. Surely he would have noticed her absence. She just imagined that she’d have a chance to sleep in her own bed before he confronted her. "I thought you'd be asleep." 

"I haven't slept in days. How could I when you left without so much as a goodbye?" he accused her and Belle winched, but he was right. "You're lucky Gaston isn't supposed to arrive until tomorrow or --"

"You have little right to tell me where I can and cannot go, but he has none!" Belle fired up immediately. Her freedom was still hers, at least for now. "He's not my husband yet!" 

"Of course." her father suddenly sagged, seeming so much older than she remembered. Belle felt her anger at him ebb away slowly and so she went to rest a hand on his arm. "I just worried," he admitted softly. "You're all I have left." 

"I'm sorry, papa," she whispered. "I just...." 

"So, did you find what you were looking for?" he asked her and Belle thought about the rock trolls, the stone shattering as it fell and Anna's terrified face before she plunged downwards. 

"No," she said faintly. "You were right, father. I should have just left things alone. That trip was a huge mistake."

"I'm the one who's made the mistake, Belle," he said heavily, guiding her to a chair. "I've been keeping a secret from you. I know what happened during the ogre attack." 

"Wait, what?" Belle snapped back to the present, looking at him with horror. So that trip had been for nothing? Anna's capture was for nothing? He could have told her all along? 

"I didn't want to add to your grief," he admitted. 

"I've been going mad not knowing!" Belle got up to pace, rage and regret making her feel like she was going to explode. "And you knew this whole time? You have to tell me!" 

"Alright." her father watched her pace but made no attempt to stop her. "When the ogres stormed the library where you and your mother had been working, the guards heard the commotion. They rushed in. They saw the ogres were about to attack. But your mother, she.... She must have pulled you to safety, then stood in the path of those monsters to protect you. She kept them at bay. The guards found you unconscious in the hallway and got you away. But by the time they came to save your mother...." 

"It was too late," Belle said numbly. "She sacrificed herself for me." but that wasn't all. She was frozen in place. Something had jogged her memory. She remembered the protective embrace of her mother. She remembered the terrifying ogre, roaring above them. But there was something else there, a flicker of golden green eyes, staring down at her with something that seemed like.... Relief?

"She loved you so much, and so do I. I'm so glad you're back." her father's voice shook her from her thoughts. Maybe she was just making things up, imaging them in her desperation to remember. "I don't know what I would have done if the ogres had gotten you on the road." 

"They.... They have reached the roads?" she looked at him in disbelief. If they were already this close to the Winter Palace, there wasn't anywhere left to hide. Her journey had been more foolhardy than she’d allowed herself to believe. No wonder her father had been in such a state.

"The war is not going well," her father admitted. "But you need not worry about such things. We have soldiers to fight."

"But those soldiers don't stand a chance." she wanted to linger on that memory of those strange, otherworldly eyes but the war called her, as always. She'd seen the men on the battlefield. This needed to end, and soon. "They'll only slow down the ogres' advance. We need someone who can stop them once and for all."

"And who would that be?" Maurice asked and Belle went to her bag, pulling the little book out, feeling hope rising. This was the solution. This was their salvation.

"On my journey, I did some reading. And, well.... There's a wizard, a powerful, powerful wizard, who may just help us. His name is...." she started softly.

"I know his name!" her father roared and Belle took a step back in surprise. Apparently struggling to get his temper under control, he added a bit more levelly, "and I dare not speak it. Trust me, Belle, if we do...."

"I know. Magic always comes with a price." she flinched as she thought of Anna. "But if mother's death taught me anything, it's that sometimes a hero has to sacrifice everything to save the people they love, and I will do whatever I can to save our land. And I can be a hero, just like mother. And if that means summoning Rumplestiltskin...." she gave her father a steely look. "Then so be it."

"Fine." all of the fight went out of her father. "I will speak to my counsel in the morning and we--"

"I can help," Belle insisted and Maurice stood, blocking the door. 

"No," he said firmly. "You're to stay here and rest. This isn't a duty for you, Belle." 

"Why not?" she demanded, thinking of everything that she’d done for her kingdom. Everything that was yet still expected from her. How could she bear the weight of the world on her shoulders yet not have a say in those decisions? 

"I'll not have you anywhere near that monster," he said darkly, then locked her in. For a second, Belle wanted to rage against him, then stopped. There was a better way. She turned about her room thoughtfully, trying to figure out what it might be. Then her eyes alighted on the wardrobe and a sly smile unfurled on her lips. 

She would dress herself like the proper princess she was and then go see her beloved fiancee, beg him humbly for the chance to stand by his side and provide quiet, feminine support and elegance. The ideal wife for him to show off. And this had another benefit. She certainly would look her best for this sorcerer. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's two belle chapters in a row but it would've been a beast otherwise and i want a rumple pov for the next one...
> 
> hope you enjoyed!


	5. like calls to like or so they say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skin deep skin deep skin deep skin deep skin deeeeeeep!!!!!
> 
> finally, rumbelle!!!

He always appreciated when mortals called his name to summon him. Being sought out for a deal was much easier than trying to detect where one might be made. He got such summons often, given that there were few that didn't know of his power. And the more enticing the offer, the harder it was to resist. 

That was why he was here. King Maurice of Avonlea had something he could not refuse. And Rumplestiltskin just happened to be staring right at it, invisible once more. It was curiosity that brought him to this room, nothing more. So he told himself. 

The draw was because Belle was whispering his name as she readied herself. She was not allowed to be part of the formal plea with her father and the advisors and, to his disdain, Gaston. But she was here now, preparing for what was evidently her last hope, to go stand by her future husband’s side while they awaited his response.

She had on a beautiful golden gown. Ornate and lovely, by far and away the most expensive thing she owned. He wondered, in a way that made him feel as though his heart was being squeezed, if it was in preparation of his visit. She never looked so regal otherwise. 

It wasn't that he was watching her. No. He was.... Protecting an investment. That was why he'd charmed her with a warning spell, hidden in the morning tea she took and served to her by a servant with a too-kindly smile. Which was how he knew she was in her beloved library, moments from a sure death. 

He'd been in the middle of brewing a particularly finicky potion, otherwise he would've been there sooner. As it was, he stubbornly wanted to resist the call of her. To prove that he didn't care all that much. Except his pride had almost cost him everything. As it was, there was only time to rescue Belle and transport her to safety. Rumplestiltskin was of the opinion that mothers were useless, until he’d seen the way Colette had shielded her daughter with her own body, trying in vain to save her. 

No wonder Belle's grief ran so deep. 

He'd erased her memories, of course. Why would she want to remember her savior was really a beast? He hadn't counted on her sheer determination and will though. Sneaking past her father's guards and buying passage to Arendalle, devoted to an adventure to find the answers of her mother. Visiting rock trolls to get her memories back was a route even he might not have thought to take. 

If he watched over her, it was only out of amusement. To see what she'd risk. To see how far she'd go. And he didn't even have to interfere to make sure that she lost the stone - he had help from a wholly unexpected source. But still. Belle was in pain. So he made sure she got home safely. And he made sure to leave a book right where she'd find it, clever, curious girl she was, that had his name in it. 

He heard her whispering his name for the first time while she was at sea, laying in a hammock and reading. She was sounding it out, trying the different letters and emphasis. Three times was technically a summons. He should've made himself known. Instead, he watched as she fell asleep, book in arms. 

That brought him here. The formal request had been made. Gold for salvation, the standard. He would reveal himself shortly. But he didn't want to be hasty. After all, something about Belle would bring his son back to him. That was the only reason he was here. The only reason at all. 

"Milady." a maid, curtseying in the doorway. 

"Is he here?" Belle demanded, finishing securing a pearl necklace around her slim throat. 

"Uh, no." the maid hesitated. "Your fiancee has asked you to join him in the throne room." 

"Very well." Belle gave herself one last look in the mirror and then gathered her skirts, sweeping from the room. Rumplestiltskin allowed himself to follow, an invisible shadow. In the throne room, everyone gathered around a table filled with maps. The ogres were encroaching at a rate even Rumplestiltskin would be hard pressed to slow. Belle went to her father's side and gave him a brief kiss to the cheek, but Rumplestiltskin saw her eyes worriedly inspecting the maps. 

"Belle." he clapped her hands, desperation in his eyes. "He isn't coming. The imp is refusing our summons." 

"He'll come, papa," Belle insisted with eyes that were too bright and a mouth that was too flat. Rumplestiltskin strode around the room, still unseen, waiting. Watching. He had to have perfect timing. The king would separate from his most beloved treasure for nothing less than....

"Sir, there's news from the battlefield." a steward burst into the room and all faces turned to him. "Avonlea has fallen."

Pure and utter desperation. Rumplestiltskin smiled to himself as he completed one last circuit around the room.

"Oh, my gods...." Maurice looked rather pale and swayed worrying; Belle caught his arm. 

"If only he had come...." Gaston remarked as Rumplestiltskin paused, directly behind Belle. It was hard to resist the notion to lean forward and smell her hair. Such lovely, fair skin, those bare shoulders. 

"Well he didn't, did he?" the king snapped, striding across the room to collapse on the throne. "Ogres are not men."

"We have to do something, we have to stop them," argued Gaston but Belle ignored him, going to kneel beside her father. For a second, Rumplestiltskin wondered if his grand plans would be foiled by the devotion of a daughter. But there was no time to go back.

"They are.... Unstoppable." Maurice looked as though all the fight had gone out of him. 

"He could be on his way right now, Papa," Belle tried to reassure him, not caring that her gown was crumpled on the ground. 

"It's too late, my girl. It's just.... Too late." the king's head slumped. Rumplestiltskin had had quite enough of this; his patience only lasted so long. With an eye roll, he sent his magic one way while he went in another. A loud booming startled everyone in the room, for the great doors seemed to be in danger of collapsing. Maurice leapt to his feet, wide eyed. 

"That's him! That has to be him." Belle sounded so delighted, Rumplestiltskin almost hated the idea of letting her down. He was not the savior she dreamed of. He was not the handsome prince here to save her. He watched as they all made for the door. 

"How could he get past the walls?" Maurice demanded, as though Rumplestiltskin hadn't done it a dozen times already. Annoyed at the slight from the old man, Rumplestiltskin settled himself on the throne. This would do nicely for his grand reveal. "Open it!" the king bellowed and the guards lifted the heavy latch to push wide the doors. A hush fell when it was revealed that no one was there. He took a moment to savor the delicious confusion before he made himself visible.

"Well, that was a bit of a let down!" he trilled and the room as a collective turned to face him. He determinedly kept his gaze on the king, even as Gaston drew his sword. "You sent me a message, something about, _"Help! Help! We're dying. Can you save us?"_ Well the answer is...." the prick Gaston has the audacity to raise a sword to him. Rolling his eyes, he rose and smacked Gaston's blade away, unbothered. "Yes, I can. Yes, I can protect your little town.... For a price." 

"We sent you a promise of gold," the king cried, approaching him, looking both wary and hopeful. He didn’t allow himself to look at Belle for more than a moment, scared that if he looked any longer, he’d never be able to tear his gaze away. She was peeking over the shoulder of her father and she didn’t look fearful - just…. Curious? He forced himself to focus.

"Ah.... Now, you see.... I, uh.... Make gold. What I want is something a bit more special." he felt like he was almost dizzy. This was his moment. The chance. "My price.... Is her." 

A simple gesture made his point absolutely clear. The price in question did not move, even as her father tried to stop a moan and her suitor placed an arm in front of her once they realized what it was he was asking. 

"No!"

"The young lady is engaged.... To me," Gaston declared boldly. Rumplestiltskin struggled not to roll his eyes. 

"I wasn't asking if she was engaged. I'm not looking for love!" he walked away from her. He didn't want to see the revulsion on her face, though it wouldn't be enough to stop him. "I'm looking for a caretaker.... For my rather large estate. It's her, or no deal." he watched with a smirk as the horror flashed over her father's face. Belle, oddly enough, still had no expression at all, beyond a sort of detached curiosity. 

"Get out." the king was trembling with anger. "Leave!"

He watched as Gaston forced Belle out of his path roughly and narrowed his eyes as she very nearly stumbled. Belle was the most valuable thing here, that was it. She was compassionate and not easily frightened by monsters. She was studious. She had shown a passion for research and travel, and if she was half as smart as she seemed, he could turn her into a very handy tool. He hated to leave her for the dead, but....

"As you wish." he went to make his exit. 

"No, wait!" Belle's voice rang out and he had to be careful to hide his smile as he slowly turned on his heel. She never disappointed him. He watched as she approached him, determination the only emotion on her lovely face. Not even a hint of fear there, for the beast. He gave credit where it was due. "I will go with him." 

"I forbid it, Belle!" Gaston yelled as Rumplestiltskin couldn't help but crow. She was making the choice. He wouldn’t even have to take her unwillingly. That had been his plan from the start, but it was nice to see it through. 

"Belle!" the king tried to take her hand but Belle only took another step towards Rumplestiltskin, keeping the distance equal. He fought not to raise an eyebrow at that. Did he not disgust her so? 

"No one decides my fate but me!" she looked between the men that she would be saving, braver than all of them. He felt the same queer emotion he’d felt when she’d defended the ogre. She took a deep, trembling breath, but her voice was quite firm when she spoke again. "I shall go." 

"It's forever, dearie," he couldn't help but warn her. He wanted her to have no illusions. She would never escape him. 

"My family, my friends... they will all live?" she asked carefully, searching his face for any trick or deception. For some, he might have done something. But for her, he wouldn't dare. It was so novel to have someone ask about the terms of a deal, instead of blindly making them without a thought of consequences. 

"You have my word." he tried to play it off. Let them all think this was nothing but another one of his eccentric moves, unable to be predicted or understood. But Belle took him seriously, her blue eyes locked on his face like she would be able to find the secrets written there. 

"Then you have mine. I will go, with you, forever," she said, quite solemnly, and he felt a shiver run up his spine. 

"Deal!" he cackled, relieved that it had been done and the bargain made. 

"Belle.... _Belle...._ you cannot do this!" the king was grey with worry, even as Belle turned and laid a comforting hand on his chest. "Belle, please! You cannot go with this.... Beast." he glared at Rumplestiltskin over Belle’s head. 

Rumplestiltskin pretended to be hurt. Really, it wasn't near the worst he'd been called. 

"Father.... Gaston...." she looked between the two, her chin quivering for a moment before she apparently got a hold of herself and set her shoulders determinedly. He was impressed with her lack of tears. "It's been decided."

"You know, she's right." Rumplestiltskin approached her, slowly. He didn't want to scare her off, but it was time. "The deal.... Is struck." a thunderclap boomed out and all the faces turned to the window, where the clouds were already dissipating. It wasn't too heavy an ask, not with Belle as the price. He took her arm in his hand and placed the other lightly on her waist. To her credit, she didn't even flinch. "Oh, congratulations on your little war!" 

He escorted her out of the throne room of the dismal little castle. Belle came silently, not even asking to stop for her to retrieve her gowns or jewels or, most surprisingly, her books. She just followed him into the courtyard, where he gave her a moment to see that the battle was dying down, the sun was beginning to shine again, and that the smoke was clearing. 

Then, carefully, he took her hand again and with a snap, brought her to her new home. 

He brought them right into the main hall. He would have liked to show Belle the mountainside, which was beautiful in the fall. All the trees turning, the golden sun falling down through the snow capped peaks. But she wasn't dressed for a stroll through the grounds and he was rather feeling like he'd made a mistake. 

In his head, he'd never quite accounted for actually retrieving Belle. He had always assumed that somehow she'd be snatched from his grasp at the last moment, just like anything else he'd wanted. The fact that she was here - that she had agreed! _Willingly!_ \- was putting him in a sort of panic. He just needed to put her somewhere where she'd be safe and then he could think about what he’d done. 

Belle didn't start to tremble until they got to the stairs and began to descend. For some reason, that served to anger him all the worse. What was he thinking? He saw her be kind once to an ogre. Did he think that would mean that she would do anything without fear for him? That she would be alright with this? 

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, in a tiny voice. 

"Let's call it.... Your room." the dungeon was the safest place for her. She couldn't escape and no one else could get in. 

"My room?" her lovely face looked around in bemusement. 

"Well, it sounds a lot nicer than dungeon." he tossed her, rather harshly, into the cell. Belle almost fell to the floor and he turned, locking her in. 

"You can't just leave me in here!" she yelled and he paused outside the door, exhaling hard as she banged on the door. "Hello? Hello!" 

Caring for others was a weakness. She was a mistake. This was all a mistake. He left her behind. He just needed time. To think and be alone. And Belle would be safe. 

  
  
  


* * *

He stopped, leaning his head against the smooth wood on the wheel. The benefit of being a Dark One was that he could see for miles, even in the dark, and hear the breath of a mouse asleep two villages over. The downside of being the Dark One was that no matter what he did, how hard he strove to ignore it, he could still hear Belle's sobbing. 

It was chest heaving, body shaking, deeply troubling sobs. He could almost see her, curled up on that feeble pallet, in that regal gold gown. He just wanted silence. He wanted to forget what he'd done, that there had been this moment of weakness that had brought her here. She would be nothing but a reminder of everything that was wrong with him, everything that was dark, when she herself was nothing but light. 

Still, she cried. He sighed heavily. This would not do. He walked to the dungeon, fighting himself every step of the way. He could give her some comfort. But she would not want it from him! He could explain himself to her. But why would she care for his actions? He could let her go. But she had agreed to be his price....

He opened the lock before he had prepared himself and found himself on the defensive, automatically pulling on a sneer. Belle looked up from where she lay, eyes rimmed red, hair a mess. For the briefest flicker, he thought - _I could comfort her, she has no one else_ \- but then he pushed that down. 

"When you so eagerly agreed to come and work for me, I assumed you wouldn't make quite so much noise," he remarked and Belle pushed herself onto her elbows, glaring at him. 

"I made my sacrifice for my friends and my family. Of course I miss them, you.... Beast!" her face was screwed up in anger, but he kept his carefully blank. He had been called much, much worse, yet nothing had stung as deeply as this for years. 

"Yes, yes, of course." he tried to sound dismissive. He couldn't let her know how he felt. "But the crying must stop. It's making it very difficult for me to spin. You know, I do my best thinking then." with a wave of his hand, he called forth the softest, silken pillow. He would be beastly but he would not be cruel. "Perhaps this'll help?" 

"For me?" despair was slowly replaced by surprise, her crumpled face smoothing out into an expression of raised eyebrows. 

"Not quite so beastly now, am I?" he snarled, thrusting it at her. 

"Thank you." Belle apparently remembered her manners and took it with some dignity, giving it an experimental fluff. "Maybe now I can actually get some sleep." 

"No, no, no. It's not to help you sleep, dearie. It's to muffle the cries so I can get back to work!" with that, he magicked himself back out of the dungeon and back to his wheel. When he sat and resumed his spinning, all he heard was the gentle creak of the wheel and the tiny clinking of the gold links as it pooled to the ground. He didn't want to smile as he enjoyed the silence. 

But yet he did. 

In the morning, he tentatively listened at the door, trying to gauge Belle's mood. When he heard her take a deep breath and not burst into sobs again, he decided it would be alright. He took a moment to inspect himself and make sure that he was dressed in appropriate clothing before unlocking the door loudly. After a second, Belle's pale face appeared. 

"Good morning?" she said quietly and he simply extended his arm to her. She took it and he repressed a shiver going down his spine. How she managed to be so lovely even after a night in the dungeon, he’d never know.

"I brought you here as a caretaker," he reminded her, striving for an even tone. He’d been beastly last night but only because Belle had seemed so upset by him. When she met him with quiet determination, it reminded him less of how awful he must seem in her eyes. "You will have duties." 

"I recall," Belle said slowly. 

"You will serve me my meals, and you will clean the Dark Castle," he continued on. He would need time to observe her, to see if he could trust her. Perhaps he’d find out early on what connected her to Bae. Then he would give her back and carry on, forgetting this girl who defended monsters. 

"I understand." Belle was nodding and he gestured to the tea that was steaming on the table. Belle went to pour while he went to sit. 

"You will dust my collection, and launder my clothing."

"Yes." Belle was pouring the tea with intense concentration. He wondered if she'd ever done so before. 

"You will fetch me fresh straw when I am spinning at the wheel," he added, watching as she gingerly set the teapot back down. 

"Got it," she muttered, straightening up with a cup in hand, looking a little proud of her small accomplishment. 

"Oh, and you will skin the children I hunt for their pelts." he couldn't resist needling her somewhat. Belle looked up at him in shock, the teacup tumbling from her grip and spilling all over the floor. "That one was a quip. Not serious," he informed her, frowning that she must believe such nonsense about him. But then her face relaxed into what almost seemed like a smile and she ducked her head as though to hide a blush. 

"Right." she knelt to pick up the cup, then came up with horror on her face. "Oh.... My. I'm so sorry but, uh.... It's.... It's chipped." she held it up to show him the crack. It was just a plain set, with blue detailing that matched the shade of her eyes. Nothing valuable. "You—you can hardly see it." 

A kind, compassionate princess who defended monsters and sought answers from books, who would rather read and research than dance and flirt. Who defended ogres and braved rock trolls and gave up everything - everything - for her people. Who strove to show him politeness and who apologized over a chipped cup. Who hadn't gone back on their deal. 

"Oh, it's just a cup," he reminded her, a bit dazed. Belle ducked her head and went to pour another cup, but he took the chipped one from her. 

It was just a cup. 

Wasn't it? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay. i promise next chapter we diverge a bit from canon and start getting into the rumbelle-centric weeds we deserve. 
> 
> you may have noticed i switched up the order of some events - this seemed more like the natural flow to me. if you ever have any questions on timelines, i got a big, long confusing document of them. 
> 
> reviews for love, love for reviews.


	6. love is not proven by words alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay!!! finally!!! we are cooking with gas now folks! please enjoy what i wish we had gotten from the show
> 
> enemies to lovers, 100k, slow burn

Belle did not understand her new employer. Why would he pick a princess for a housekeeper? She didn’t know the first thing about cleaning or managing a castle this large without a hoard of servants. Once the master of the place disappeared in his customary poof of purple smoke, she was left to herself. She took a deep breath and gathered her composure. Meals. He clearly didn’t want breakfast but she did. First order of business was a kitchen. She looked to the left, then to the right. 

No time like the present to explore the place where she’d reside for the rest of her life. Belle pushed away the anguish at the thought. Rumplestiltskin clearly wasn’t one for tears. She’d have to force those down as well and keep a sunny disposition around him if she wanted to be spared his wrath. 

She figured that the kitchens here would be similar to where they were in her own - _old_ \- castle. So, wishing it wasn’t so, Belle turned back to the stairs she’d come up with Rumplestiltskin and descended back down them. Her confusion mounted when she realized, after the first few steps, that this could not be the same hall she’d been in before. When she’d taken it before, there had been all sorts of rooms branching off it, hallways winding into darkness. Now there were but two doors. 

Belle reminded herself that there was magic at play here. She steeled herself and opened the door to the left, relaxing when it only revealed when had been so eloquently termed ‘her room’. Emboldened, she shut the door and turned to the right, opening the door with a lot more confidence. A smile crept across her face when she realized that she had indeed found the kitchen. She walked through, inspecting it. 

It was warm and cozy, with a big wooden table and benches around it. A roaring fireplace in one corner and a pot of something boiling merrily in the coals. Belle approached it carefully and sniffed, her mouth instantly watering. It smelled like a wonderful stew. She looked around and spotted a ladle and a bowl. She reached for it then paused. She didn’t want to call Rumplestiltskin down for every little thing, but she wasn’t sure if this was hers to eat. 

“May I…. Have some?” she asked the empty room, feeling rather foolish. The pot gave an extra large bubble and Belle took that as a sign, going to grab the bowl. She filled it all the way up and dove in, sighing in contentment. It was very good and she’d been too upset to eat for a day now. After serving herself seconds, she was full to bursting. She looked around and spotted a bucket and a pump that dispersed water. 

Well, she supposed it was time to learn how to clean. 

The kitchen seemed to have a closet that contained everything she’d need for cleaning. Belle decided to start with a broom. Sweeping she knew how to do. First she did the kitchen, then her dungeon, tidying up her little pallet. She gave her silk pillow a fluff, laughing slightly at the gift. It had almost been nice of him. Then she took the broom and decided it was time to explore the castle. She made a mental note of where the dungeon was and of course, the kitchen. 

Up the stairs took her to the main hall, with the fireplaces, the long table, and the cabinets of the curios. She took a stroll towards the windows blanketed with curtains. Lifting the edge of one aside, she realized in some surprise that they were high in the mountains. The weather outside looked glorious, caught in the beautiful grip of fall. Curiously, Belle decided to look about the grounds. Only briefly, she promised herself. Then right back to cleaning. 

There were only a few doors off the main hall, so she decided to take the large double doors. That seemed promising. She managed to push them open and realized she was standing in the foyer. It was plain, decorated with just a few trinkets. But her main objective was the massive doors across from her. She approached them and tried to push one open, failing. She put her full weight into it, but it was like a breeze moving a mountain. 

“I’m not trying to escape,” she promised the castle, still feeling like an absolute idiot for speaking such nonsense. “I just want to see.” she tried again, to no avail. She repeated herself once more then gave up, staring at it in frustration. “Am I not allowed out, is that it? I just want to see!” 

She wasn’t sure why she expected an answer. The castle was an inanimate object, after all. So with a huff, she went to get the broom. Might as well sweep in here while she was at it. Once the foyer was done, she went back to the main hall, inspecting the few remaining doors she had to explore. She decided to choose the one opposite the dungeon, hoping that it would allow her to climb. To her disappointment, it was simply a washing room, a basin for the laundry and a line by the fire for drying. Sighing, she shut it. 

The next door led to a simple bathroom, with a chamberpot. Belle shut that door and looked around. Only one other option then. She approached the door slowly and grinned when she realized that it was a tower. She climbed up the stairs, wondering if this was where Rumplestiltskin had disappeared off to. Except when she reached the top, there was nothing but a small landing with a small window. She looked out. 

“Now that doesn’t make any sense,” she muttered. From what she could see, the castle had at least three wings. Certainly way more than the half dozen rooms she’d seen. But this was a magical castle ruled by a sorcerer. It made sense that perhaps there were places she wasn’t allowed to go. With a sigh, she picked up her broom and headed back down the stairs. She’d have to figure out the rest of cleaning on her own. 

  
  
  


* * *

It only took Belle a day to be very, very grateful that the castle wasn’t bigger. She was a very inept housekeeper. Rumplestiltskin wanted his tea in the morning, when Belle was covered in soot from crawling into the fireplaces to sweep them out. He wrinkled his nose and disappeared again. Then, when she tried to make a roast for lunch, it burnt to a crisp while she got distracted trying to shift some pedestals to clear them of cobwebs. She waited for anger and only received what seemed like mild exasperation. 

The nice thing was that the castle, perhaps sensing her ineptitude, made up for it. Whenever she spilled her cleaning supplies, a new bucket appeared for her. When she scrubbed the floors and missed a section, it suddenly gleamed like the rest. When she shrunk a pair of Rumplestiltskin’s leather pants, they stretched back out when she hung them up to dry. She wasn’t sure if Rumplestiltskin knew or was making it happen. But she was glad for it. 

The other nice thing was that she was so exhausted at the end of the day, she collapsed on her cot and fell asleep almost instantly. She didn’t even miss her books, she was so worn out. The worst thing was that she was still wearing her ball gown, which grew heavier and more soiled by the day. She kept working, not wanting to show her failure to Rumplestiltskin. What if he decided it wasn’t enough and went back on their deal? Belle's worries grew and lessened as a few days passed with her continued employment and her employers failure to turn her away for shoddy work. 

“Really, dearie?” Rumplestiltskin asked, with a raised eyebrow, as Belle served him tea and scones that were harder than rocks. She winched. She’d forgotten an ingredient in her haste to get it all ready. He took a sip of tea. “At least this is palatable enough. A new blend?” 

“Yes.” she smiled. The kitchen was always stocked with interesting and different things and she found some pleasure in combining them. She wondered if he brought them to the castle or if it simply created things. She hoped for the first option, in all honesty. “Do you like the dash of rosemary?” 

“An inspired touch.” he sat the cup down. “Did you use the blue vial?” 

“Yes,” she revealed, surprised. She’d found it tucked amongst the spices. It had smelled floral, so she’d sprinkled a few drops into his tea. 

“Ah, a shame.” he took another sip. “For it’s a most rare poison.” 

“Poison?” Belle blanched and Rumplestiltskin maintained a serious face for a moment longer then smirked. She gaped at him, coming to know that smirk for what it was. Teasing. “Are you joking?” 

“Now why would I leave a poison where my maid could stumble upon it?” he rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his tea to make her relax. “Really, dearie.” 

“It would serve you right,” Belle chastised him, bustling around now that the dread had washed out of her limbs and she could move freely again. She felt safe enough to tease him back, ever so gently. “I’ve had about just enough of your quips, Rumplestiltskin.” 

“And I’ve certainly had enough of these scones.” Rumplestiltskin tossed one into the fire, where it sat, quite untouched by the flames. He raised an eyebrow. “Should I get you lessons?” 

“i’ve never had to cook before,” she said defensively. 

“Or clean.” he dragged a finger along the edge of the table. 

“I’m getting there!” she insisted. “There’s just so much to dust!” 

“There could be more, dearie,” he warned her and she narrowed her eyes. So there was more to the castle then, just as she’d suspected. It was magic then, that kept her from seeing the entirety of the place. 

“I’ve just never done this before.” she tried to school her face into a polite expression. She couldn’t let her guard down and fall into really teasing him. He was not her papa or even a friend. He was her master and at any second, he could revoke that which he’d given her - the safety of her family. 

“Clearly.” he was smirking, which made this all feel like a joke and made it all the harder to not respond in kind. 

“I’ll — I’ll get better,” she promised and thought she saw something flicker there in his eyes. “I just need to —“

“Do you know why you’re here, girl?” he demanded and Belle had a thought that he never called her by her name, only ‘dearie’ or ‘girl’. 

“A caretaker,” she said slowly, “for your…. Large estate.” a large estate she’d only seen a fraction of. 

“Exactly.” he sat back, still swirling his tea. “Is it not…. Taken care of?” 

“I….” she looked around, hesitating. There were still so many things to dust. And that there, was it a scorch mark on the wall? How? She hung her head. “No. It’s not. I’m sorry. You could…. Throw me out then.” 

“Throw you out?” he hissed, suddenly leaning across the table. “You wish to be released? You wish to forsake your promise?” he looked almost mad, with his wide eyes and spittle flying from his mouth. 

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I just mean - if I am not doing a satisfactory job, you’re within your rights to dismiss me. I just ask…. Don’t revoke the gift you gave my people. You can send me anywhere. Or leave me locked in the dungeon. I know I must be disappointing! And I know it was part of our deal. I apologize for letting down my side.” 

“What’s done is done.” was it her or did he sound…. Surprised? She raised her head to look at him. He was sitting back down, tea back in hand. And this time, a second cup sat steaming within her reach. She slowly reached for it. “You’re not breaking our deal.” 

“Good.” with relief, she picked up the cup and took a sip. It was a good blend, she gave herself credit. 

“I’ll forgive the cleaning skills for the tea,” he muttered and Belle smiled into her cup.

* * *

  
  
  
  


“What do you think you’re doing, dearie?” 

Belle had to stifle a scream. She turned and glared at her master, who was standing with his hands behind his back and a most curious expression on his face. She took a second to answer him, still trying to calm her racing heart. He was always sneaking up and scaring her! It wasn’t fair that he had such an advantage. After she could regulate her breathing once again, she gestured to her work with the feather duster. 

“Cleaning, of course. And quit scaring me like that!” 

“Scaring you?” he raised his lips in a growl and she rolled her eyes at him. 

“Sneaking up on me,” she corrected. “It’s not fair that you can pop up anywhere you want to go and I’m stuck scuffing across the stones.” 

“Unfair,” he echoed, looking rather lost in thought. Belle nodded and then continued at her task. She’d saved the largest cabinet for last, for two reasons. One, the amount of objects in it made the task quite daunting. And two, it seemed to house things of the most valuable or dangerous nature. She wanted to make sure she didn’t damage anything or turn herself into a piglet while she was at it. His warning made her jump. “Careful, dearie!” 

“What?” Belle froze. She’d been in the midst of dusting a harmless looking silver box. Winching, Rumplestiltskin approached and moved it out of arm’s reach. 

“Did you take everything out?” he asked her, gingerly setting the box down. 

“Yes.” it was clearly laid out, covering the entire massive wooden table. He must have had hundreds of things crammed into it. It took her the entire morning just to move things. “What does the box do?” 

“Oh, it plays a little tune.” he gave her a slow, dangerous smile. “One that you’ll dance to until you die.” 

“Lovely,” she remarked dryly. “Thank you for leaving it right where I’d want to open it.” 

“How was I to know you’d be cleaning here?” he demanded harshly and she gaped at him. 

“It’s on my list of chores!” she shot back hotly and that made him pause. 

“Indeed it was,” he conceded and she fought down a smile, sticking with her strict tone. 

“Anything else you’d like to remove for my safety?” she gestured broadly to the collection. “So that I don’t lose a finger or release a curse?” 

She waited for some smart quip back. A witty retort about just how valuable one maid’s finger was anyways. But instead, Rumplestiltskin actually inspected the objects in front of her, then carefully picked out several, including a dusty hat, a monocle, and a box simply tied shut with a length of twine. 

“There,” he said with satisfaction when he was done. “Nothing too dangerous for you now, I suppose.” 

“Thank you.” slightly relieved, Belle went back to her task at hand before glancing over her shoulder with a curious expression. “Where will you take those? Wherever you go when you disappear on me?” 

“Where I go?” he sounded suspicious. Belle had learned in her short tenure here that it was better not to look at him when they were having these conversations; it made him more at ease if she just carried on as usual. 

“I’m only able to see a few rooms,” she remarked idly, polishing a cup, “and none of the grounds. I’m assuming you have your own chambers, I just wonder where they are.” 

“Thinking of smothering me in my sleep, dearie?” he hissed and she looked at him so that he could see her eye-roll. 

“As though I could. Besides, the things in this castle are dangerous to me, not you.” 

“You are in no danger,” he told her flatly and she pointed to the music box. 

“So doing the foxtrot until I drop isn’t the slightest bit harmful?” 

“All curses can be broken,” he said dismissively. “I’d find the solution for you.” 

“Well.” the idea that he’d work to save her instead of leaving her to her fate was oddly touching. “Still. I’d like to at least know where you are, in case I get into real trouble.” 

“Trouble.” he had that same funny expression on his face. The one that seemed like he was waiting for her to do or something. Belle just wasn’t sure what he wanted. 

“Trouble,” she said airily, hoping to steer them into safer waters. “I’d hate to die at the hands of some magical…. Pear or whatnot.” 

“No magical pears,” he promised, gathering the objects up into his arms then hesitated, lingering near her. “And…. I have a study. It’s in one of the towers. I’ll make it so you can access it, if…. If you are in real danger. But you may always shout.” 

“Can you hear me?” she asked him curiously, She wondered how often he was listening. When she was cleaning? When she was alone in her room? Did he hear her sing terribly off key? She hoped. It would serve him right. 

“I can, if needed,” he said with a crooked smile and Belle gave him a little nod. He vanished again, taking the items with him. Belle picked up a trident, wondering if she should give it a polish. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyone else think of how easily belle saw through rumple's reasoning for bringing her to his castle. "i need a caretaker!" then look for the enchanted forest version of martha stewart, not some spoiled princess! 
> 
> ah. the stupidity of love. 
> 
> (reviews?)


	7. to fear is to know the ability to care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as you can imagine, i moved some things around in the canon timeline to fit better and to achieve my ends but let me know if it gets confusing
> 
> without further ado one of my favorite scenes

It was because she’d put the stupid idea in his head. She’d made him realize that she was neck deep in powerful and mystical objects with nary a protection spell about her person. He’d told her to clean his castle without first proofing it for her feeble mortal body’s safety. Then he’d realized what things could harm her and how ill-equipped she was to defend herself. She’d put the idea into his head and that was why he found himself magicking directly into her cell when he heard her scream in the middle of the night.

“Belle!” 

“Oh, thank the heavens!” she was standing on her cot and he rushed to her side, wondering what sort of hurt she was in. Nothing terrible, he hoped, nothing that couldn’t be undone, or….

“What…. Are you doing?” he asked slowly, upon realizing that he couldn’t detect any trace of magic in the room and that Belle seemed no worse for the wear than she’d been a few hours ago when he’d sent her to bed. 

“A mouse!” she looked like she was facing down a dragon. Her auburn curls were down and loose around her face and her skin was flushed, like she’d been asleep but woken suddenly. “It was crawling over my blankets while I slept. I felt it!” 

“A—“ he stared at her. All this fuss, for a creature so small? But then he stopped when he saw the genuine fear on Belle’s face. Sighing, he paused to sweep the room. 

Well, she was correct, at least. There was a mouse, small and meek, hiding under the shadow of the cot. It was just as alarmed as Belle, wondering what the commotion was and hoping to escape it unharmed. He uses his magic to catch the thing, clasping it firmly between his hands. Belle gasped. 

“Did you get it?” she asked him breathlessly. 

“A harvest mouse, likely hoping to find some warmth before the cold winters,” he told her and Belle climbed down off the cot, standing in front of him with a curious expression. 

“You didn’t harm it?” she asked him and he shook his head. 

“Would you prefer it dead?” he asked her, curious what her answer would be. 

“No,” she said quickly. “Can we just release it, somewhere else? I occupy this room, little one,” she informed the crack of his hands. “You may have a different one, but I would rather not share this cell.” 

That gave him pause. Belle had been here for more than a week. She had yet to complain about her accommodations. She had yet to throw a fit or cry or scream or wail or curse him. She retreated there nightly and rose in the morning. For a dungeon, it was well kept. She was clearly trying to make the best of it. 

He opened his mouth to say something, something like there being a hundred rooms that she could take and that none of them would have mice in them. But then two things happened at once; the security spell he’d put on the castle gave a very unpleasant jerk around his navel to alert him that there was an intruder and there was a clattering crash above them. Belle jumped, looking at him in surprise. He had half a mind to lock her back in for her own good but then she was already pushing past him and rushing up the stairs. Biting back curses, he followed, leaving the mouse to it’s hard won lodgings. 

Belle let him overtake her before the top of the stairs and he pushed it open, making sure to keep Belle behind him. There, at the case Belle had spent the day cleaning, was a dark figure clad in a hood, rooting around. He felt the all-too familiar rush of frenzied anger and felt it overtake him, bringing on the Dark One and having any semblance of Rumplestiltskin disappear. 

"Are you sure you wanna do this, dearie?” he cackled and the man turned, pulled down his hood. In one hand, he clasped a magic wand. It wasn’t anything truly special; a minor fairy wand that he’d managed to steal. But the thief didn’t need to know that. 

"Pretty sure,” he remarked confidently. A handsome man, evidently charming. But mortal, as they always were. And no match for him. 

"If you don't know how to use that wand, it can do nasty things to you,” he warned him and the man gave a shrug, tucking it into his vest before reaching over his shoulder for a bow. 

“Well, then.... I'll stick to what I know works.” he notched a golden arrow. It had the taint of magic on it, which impressed Rumplestiltskin slightly. At least the man knew who he was dealing with, even if he was underprepared. "Do you know what this arrow can do to you?” 

"Has to hit me first,” Rumplestiltskin sneered and magicked himself to the opposite side of the room. That kept Belle out of the line of fire, where she was still standing in her golden gown, mouth slightly agape. The thief spun, tracking him. 

"Shouldn't be a problem. An arrow fired from this bow always finds its target. Don't you just love magic?” with a smirk, he fired. Rumplestiltskin teleported himself across the room once more, feeling the impact of the arrow in his chest but no pain. Behind him, he heard Belle’s worried gasp and saw the satisfied smile on the thief’s face. “I know I do.” 

"As do I!” with a mad giggle, he pulled the arrow out of his chest. He was quite unharmed. "But don't you know? All magic comes with a price!” he gave a dramatic flourish then turned menacing once more. "And in your case, that’s…. Me.” 

His magic did two things at once. Firstly, it bound and gagged his prisoner, leaving him flopping on the floor like a fish. And secondly, it sent Belle right back to her room in the dungeon. He thought of the mouse that he’d saved from her own cell and wondered where it was now. It was no matter. She was back where she was safe and the thief was caught. He was the Dark One. He had a reputation to uphold, after all. 

He took himself to the cell for his new prisoner and refused to think about why he cast a quick spell to make sure that she would not hear anything from it. 

The thief wouldn’t break to any of the torture he submitted him to throughout the night. If he was honest with himself, his heart wasn’t in it. For some reason, he couldn’t think of anything other than Belle and her cell, which was apparently penetrable by mice. What else could get in and what if it was more nasty than a simple little mouse? It bothered him more than it should. And why did he care about the reasons of a thief, a mortal? They wanted magic for their own petty tricks. 

He was in a dreadful mood in the morning. He strode on up to get his morning tea, which Belle was already up and serving. She’d cleaned up the mess from the night prior and put everything back to rights, including the wand. She glanced up when he walked in, but she saw the way his face drained of color at the sight of the blood on his apron. He pulled it off, setting it aside where she’d have to retrieve it.

"I'm gonna need another apron,” he informed her darkly and Belle jumped, going back to pouring the tea. This blend smelled lovely, spicy and warm in accordance with the rapidly chilling weather. 

"Uh, they're uh... They're on the line drying.” Belle sounded like it was hard to get the words out. "It'll be some time.”

"Fine, fine. Get to cleaning this one as well.” he downed the tea in one swallow. "I'll be back later.” he had business to attend to. Firstly, trying to determine why the thief wanted the wand in the first place. Who put him up to it? And why? He was the seer of the future. He had to know. 

"All this because he tried to steal a magic wand?” Belle’s tone was hard and his anger flared. What did she know? What did she know about anything? She was just a mortal, a girl! 

"No, because he tried to steal from me,” he spat heatedly. "The Dark One. You try that, you get skinned alive. Everyone knows that.” he bared his teeth at her in a leer and Belle’s blue eyes were cool and calm, apparently unbothered by him in the slightest. 

"Actually, no. They don’t.” 

"Well they will after they discover the body.” he gave another mad cackle and disappeared. He couldn’t handle the sight of Belle’s glare. And there were things more important than her disappointment in him and why it made him so uncomfortable. 

He sat at his wheel to spin, pouring all of his focus into it. The gold links were like moments of time, all connected and bound together. He simply had to follow them to find his answers. That had not failed him yet. They’d brought his all around the realms, to gather artifacts and information that would guide him back to his son. How did this play into the grand plan? 

Except he could practically hear the thoughts of his pretty little maid. He had a spell so that he could hear Belle’s movements at all times, as a way of keeping her safe, he told himself. And usually by now she’d be clearing away the tea set and cleaning the kitchen, preparing for lunch. She wasn’t doing anything of the sort; she was standing by the fire. 

He knew what she was thinking. Tendered hearted, foolish girl. But still, there was a part of him that couldn’t resist. What would she do, if he gave her the option? Wrestling with himself, he in the end chose to grant her access to the entirety of the dungeon. It took no more than a whisper of his magic and then he sat back, to wait, listening. 

Belle, ever a woman of action, made her choice within a few minutes. She marched down to the dungeons with determined purpose and he felt a wild desire to laugh. He closed his eyes to listen. 

"What? Did he send you to finish the job?” the thief managed a jape, even with his pain.

"Uh-no, no. Not at all. Here, drink this. I couldn't let this continue, it's inhuman.” Belle’s tone was only fury. 

"I couldn't agree more. But I fear now he'll turn his wrath on you.” a heart in the thief after all? Even if Rumplestiltskin bristled at the notion of him hurting Belle. That was the last thing he’d ever want to do, even when he was in a rage. 

"If he does, I'll stand up to the beast that he is, because no one.... No one deserves to be tortured.” a fearless girl. He didn’t doubt her resolve for a moment. In her short time here, she’d laughed when he expected her to cry, bent instead of breaking, and told him off when most would scurry away. 

"Well, he may beg to differ.” 

“Well, I don't care. He doesn't frighten me.” Belle almost sounded…. Amused? "Hurry up. He'll be back soon. Hurry.”

"But he will kill you. Unless you run away with me.” 

Rumplestiltskin’s breath caught in his throat. An escape, for her. Would he even allow it? He could stop her. Drag it all to halt. But then, before he had a chance to close down all the wards on the castle in a fury….

"I can't run,” Belle said firmly. "I made a deal to serve him, in exchange for him protecting my kingdom and my family from the ogres. If I were to leave, I might survive, but my family surely won’t.” 

Well. He hadn’t been expecting that. Most people broke their deals with him as quickly as they could. How many times had he been cheated and scammed, double crossed and betrayed? Yet Belle had decided to remain, and not from fear but from duty. She had made a deal and she was upholding her end. 

Had anyone ever done so before?

"All I can do is wish you luck.” the thief clearly thought she was a bit touched in the head but remained gallant all the same. 

"Thank you. Now go. Go,” she urged and Rumplestiltskin stayed still, as the thief left. He didn’t bother to stop him; all his focus was on Belle. 

Could he feel her racing heart? Could he feel her trembling fingertips and her dry mouth and her swooping stomach? Could he feel her fear, rising up slowly, hampered only by the knowledge that what she did was right and for the best and consequences be damned, she did what she had to do to be able to live with herself? He took in a pretty maid with a kind heart and no matter what he did to her, what sort of horribleness she thought herself up for, nothing could turn her away from the path of good.

That thought stopped him in his tracks. 

Beauty and light, unswayed by darkness? 

No. He shook his head, clearing his mind of such nonsense. The darkness would always win. It always did. There was no hope, not for him. He was, after all, the beast of her nightmares. She’d said as much. She’d freed the man because she thought him handsome and charming, never mind the real reason he was here and that he might have harmed her given the chance. Well, he would show her the error of her ways and the true nature of man. Let her think him beastly then! 

He magicked himself into the hall where Belle was tending to the fire, evidently doing her best to seem unbothered. He’d brought with him a roll of rusty tools that he made a big show of choosing, enjoying the way that Belle grew more and more tense as time went on. 

"I'll try not to be too loud. Can't promise the same courtesy from our prisoner,” he told her, then went striding for the dungeon and left her quite frozen. He wasn’t gone for a few moments, just long enough to confirm that the cell was indeed empty, then magicked himself back upstairs, an inch from her face, looking rather feral. "Where is he?”

Emotions ran over Belle’s face like water; fear, determination, guilt, resolve. Then she tilted her chin up, defiant. "Gone. I let him go.”

"What? He was a thief,” he reminded her and Belle’s eyes flashed. He hadn’t been wrong in thinking that she was iron wrapped in silk. The sight might have made him weak at the knees, had he not been genuinely angry with her. 

“Which doesn't give you the right to kill him.”

"It gives me every right!” he raged. What did she not understand, that this would only serve to make him weak! To make others think that they too could take advantage of him! He had a reputation to upkeep, and if she went about ruining it, then she herself would be in danger as well. He had too many enemies to show weakness. 

"I saw good in him. That man only wanted to escape with his life.” she fought back and his lips curled in a sneer.

"Oh, is that what you thought? Our thief escaped with more than his life.” he took her by the shoulders and spun her around so that she could see that the place where the wand had been now no longer held anything at all. "You were tricked, you foolish, gullible girl!"

"There must be an explanation.” to Belle’s credit, there was genuine shock on her face. Of course there was - she still looked for the best in everyone. "We don't know why he needed that wand.” 

“He took the wand because he wanted magic! People who steal magic never have good intentions!” he spat and for a second, he thought he saw a flash of something on her face, something like curiosity or understanding or.… Pity? Then she was right back to fighting with him. 

"No! No! You can't tell what's in a person's heart until you truly know them.”

So she wanted to truly know this man? She thought him handsome, thought him kind? The type of man she daydreamed about marrying and having a small army of children? Except now she was trapped here in a dismal castle, with the only company that of a small harvest mouse and an evil, old crocodile.

"Oh, we'll see what's in his heart, all right,” he hissed and Belle recoiled. "When I shoot an arrow straight through it. And because I am a showman, it'll be with his bow. And because this is your fault, you get to come with me and watch, and know, as the blood drips from his carcass, it will be you and your rags to wipe it up.”

True horror filled her face as he took her by the arm and marched her out of the castle. The great doors blew open in front of them, exposing her to the grounds for the first time. He felt her head swing back and forth, trying to see all of it, but he determinedly kept them on course for the stables where his carriage would await. He would track the thief and give Belle time to stew in her dread. 

The carriage was open and pulled by four black steads. He guided them with magic so there was no need for him to even harness them. He just helped Belle inside and then they were off, thundering through the gates and into the forest. Belle determinedly refused to meet his eye, instead staring out into the thickening trees. He noticed, however, that she shivered as the cool air rushed over her bare neck and shoulders. With a sigh and a fight against his better judgement, a snap of his fingers granted her a thick, warm cloak and brown gloves. She jumped in surprise, running her hands over the fabric. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly and he gave a tiny incline of his head, too strangled with a wide range of emotions to speak. 

They rode deeper in the forest in silence, until he realized that they’d left the borders of his estate and were in Nottingham's land. He looked at the old, ancient forest and wondered if this was all folly.

"I'm losing track of him. This forest is too thick,” he muttered and Belle glanced at his, a tiny smirk on her berry-red lips.

"Maybe we should return home,” she suggested lightly and his heart skipped a beat. Did she consider his castle home? 

“What, and let the thief escape?” he chased the lightness away. There was a purpose to this and it was to prove to her - and the rest of the realm - that he was still dark and cruel. "What would people think if I spared the life of someone who stole from me?’

"That there's actually a man hiding behind the beast?” Belle still had levity in her tone but her eyes were completely serious, staring into his very soul. He’d never seen a shade so perfectly blue, naturally or magically. He nervously licked his lips and did his best not to feel very much like a man once again. 

“There isn’t.” 

"Then why didn't you kill me when I freed the prisoner?” Belle had him there and she knew it. She quirked one eyebrow and he resisted everything in himself to tell her that he would never harm her. That the very thought made him woozy. That it scared him more than anything to imagine that he could and that if he did, it would be the final bit of darkness to lose himself in, once and for all.

"Well, I would have. But good help these days is very really to find,” he told her flippantly, trying not to recall the burnt biscuits and shoddily polished silver. 

“I think that you are not as dark as you want people to believe. I think that deep down, there's love in your heart.” Belle was still looking at him like she could see into his very soul. Panicked, in case she could, he deliberately pushed away anything thought of Bae. "And for something more than power.”

"You're right. There is something I love.” he’d had enough of her unsettling him. Time to remind her where the real power lay. Belle leaned in, intrigued, close enough that he could smell her. He waited a second longer, then cackled. "My things!” 

"You really are as dark as people say.” Belle sat back against the carriage seats, put out. But she didn’t say it with fear or loathing. If anything, it was with annoyance. 

"Darker, dearie. Much darker,” he warned her and Belle looked at him with something unrecognizable in her eyes. But before she could say anything, the carriage came to a halt at the voices around them. He got out of the carriage, looking for the source of the holdup, before his mouth formed a snarl. Just who he’d rather avoid. 

"What are you doing in my woods?” the Sheriff of Nottingham demanded. He could smell the alcohol on him and saw the way the man stumbled over the even ground of the road. 

"Pardon the intrusion, sheriff. I'm looking for a thief," he explained cooly. "He attacked me with this bow. I traced him as far as these woods, and then he vanished."

"Yes, I know exactly who you're after." the sheriff touched the bow, anger breaking through the drunken glaze on his face. Then something flashed in his dark, beady eyes. "But I also know who you are, Rumplestiltskin."

"My reputation precedes me. Excellent," he remarked with grim delight. Now Belle would get to see him for who he truly was; master dealmaker and powerful sorcerer. She'd have no illusions that he was a man after this. 

"Yes, as does your penchant for making deals. I'll tell you where you can find your thief... If you give me something in return." the sheriff took a long drink for a flash.

Smirking, Rumplestiltskin took a step closer to the man. It wouldn't be anything too difficult; likely a barrel of wine to drown himself in. "What do you want?"

"A night with your wench," the sheriff declared boldly and his men behind him sniggered. 

Rumplestiltskin’s blood, if he had any, ran cold. For a moment, he was very, very still. Then slowly, he turned to face Belle. She looked surprised for but a second, then tried to cover it up with stoicism to hide the disgust. He did notice, however, that she was trembling, even under her thick cloak. He thought of his words to her in the carriage. 

Darker. 

How much darker could he get than to sell her body in exchange for the information that would lead to the demise of the man she protected? But even as the idea wormed its way into his mind, he was overcome with anger. He turned back to the sheriff, a cold fury making him dangerous.

"She's not for sale." 

The sheriff laughed, his greedy eyes still on Belle. "You can't part with her for, say, an hour? 20 minutes?"

"Let me think. Um...." so what if he was defending Belle? He conjured the sheriff's tongue out of his mouth and into his hand, cackling when he heard the gasp of both the men and Belle while the sheriff gagged. "I propose a new deal. I give you this back, and in return, you tell me everything you know about the man I am hunting." the sheriff tried to scream, eyes bulging, but there was nothing he could do. Smirking, Rumplestiltskin gave the tongue a little shake. "You ought to be more careful with your possessions. Do you agree to my terms? What was that?" grunting and gagging, the sheriff managed a nod. "All right, I'll take that as a "yes" then."

"Aah! Aah!" the sheriff gasped, massaging his throat, now whole again. 

"Start talking," Rumplestiltskin ordered, low and dangerous.

"The thief that you're after—I've been chasing him for years. He ruined me! He stole the woman I love and... Made me the laughing stock of all of Nottingham." the words couldn't come out fast enough now.

"Where can I find him?"

"Well, the last I heard, he was hiding out here, in Sherwood Forest," the sheriff admitted slowly.

"And his name?"

"Robin Hood," the sheriff told him after a reluctant second. "He goes by Robin Hood."

He'd heard of the thief. A 'steal from the rich to give to the poor' sort of fellow. What anyone would term as a hero. That, coupled with his looks and charms.... No wondering Belle had fallen for him. With that information, he could easily find the man. 

"Come along, dearie," he ordered Belle, gesturing for her to proceed in front of him to keep her distance from the sheriff. He had half a mind to leave the man in front of him missing something - say a liver or a more intimate part - but decided against it. He had done everything required of him, but he had spoken against Belle.... But there were other matters to attend to. 

They hiked further into the forest. He knew the thief's name now, which made it easier to track. Behind him, Belle occasionally stumbled over a low branch or an uneven spot in the ground, held up by her long skirts. After a few minutes, she evidently decided it was safe to speak. 

"Thank you." 

"For what?" he asked roughly, slowing to wait for her. 

"For not.... Giving me to him." Belle's voice shook slightly and he stopped, turning to face him. He stared at her in horror. Did she really think that he'd do such a thing? But of course she did. Hadn’t he been trying to convince her of that very thing not moments before? Darker. Much darker. 

"I'd...." he floundered on his words. He wanted to intimidate her. He wanted her to fear him, like everyone else did. Because that was the way of the world! That was what was necessary! But then he saw those eyes, the kindness in them even when she was beholding the beast he was. And he wasn't sure. "I'd never." he settled on saying the kind thing with a sneer. That felt appropriate. 

But Belle wasn't swayed. 

"You know it's still not too late to.... To turn back," she reminded him and he scowled, turning to continue his trek. Belle followed, still pecking at him like a little bird with her angry words. "You know, I am not going to stand by and watch you kill a man!"

"Well, you're welcome to sit if you like, but you are gonna watch." he burst, glaring at her. She couldn't just let him do one nice thing? She had to keep demanding more and more from him, just like everyone else. "That's the whole point of our little expedition, remember? To see what your actions wrought," he hissed and then froze. His magic was tingling and when he lifted his gaze, he spotted the thief. Lips curling back, he stopped Belle. "Found him."

"Look, he's.... He's waiting for someone," Belle remarked quietly. Indeed the thief looked to be anxious, head raising when a carriage pulled towards him. There, on the back, lay a clearly sick woman. "That woman."

"That must be the one he stole from the sheriff," he muttered, thinking despite himself about the way he could've stolen Belle, but she'd decided to stay with him. That she'd been happy to stay with him, that she thanked him. 

"She's sick," Belle insisted, as the woman coughed and heaved. "She's going to die." Belle's voice broke and for some reason, he thought of her own mother, desperately trying to keep Belle safe.

"Yes, and so is he." the time for a soft heart was over. He tried to raise the bow, but Belle's little hand grabbed his elbow with surprising strength. 

"Stop!" she cried and the moment of hesitation allowed the thief to use the wand, waving it down the body of the woman. To his surprise, the magic obliged and the color returned to her cheeks, whatever ailed her now gone. Beaming, Belle turned to face him, a little smirk on her face. "I'm right about him, about why he stole the wand. He did it so he could heal the woman he loves." she looked back, tenderness and love written across her beautiful face. 

"He's still a thief," he muttered, rather dazzled by her. 

"And she would have died if he hadn't stolen your wand." the softness slid right off her face and she was back to the fiery girl he'd first seen in the forest near her castle. The switch did more to him than he could ever speak to. And it reminded him who he was - the Dark One, who would never again be swayed by a pretty girl. His grip on the bow tightened. 

"And now he gets to die! And she can tell all of Sherwood Forest what happens when you cross Rumplestiltskin. There!" he magicked the lower half of her body into the soil, so she couldn't stop him any longer. "That should give you a good view." 

"You don't have to do this." Belle's eyes flashed as she strained against the dirt. He ignored her, readying the shot, but she kept pleading. "There's good in you. I was right about the thief, and I am right about you." the thief helped the woman up and Rumplestiltskin's hand stilled. He knew that familiar rounding of her stomach, the tender way in which the thief helped her down so attentively. Belle noticed the same thing he did and her voice trembled with excitement. "Look, she's pregnant. You are not the kind of man to leave a child fatherless." 

He couldn't help the way his heart stopped. She didn't know. She couldn't know. No one knew about Bae, not anymore. Then how.... But the thief was kissing the woman and his heart, or the space where it might be, ached for everything that he'd lost. And so he loosed the arrow, while Belle screamed behind him. "No!"

The arrow found it's intended mark. The cart shook slightly with the impact of the arrow and both the thief and the woman looked up in surprise and fear, but the ridge hid Rumplestiltskin and Belle. 

"We've been found. Marian, we must go," Robin Hood urged her, taking her hand and leading her to his horse. Rumplestiltskin watched them, quite still. 

"What happened?" Belle demanded, from her point on the ground. 

"I missed," he told her woodenly, watching as the thief and the woman clambered onto a horse, and rode off into the distance. Both vaguely annoyed and somewhat satisfied, Rumplestiltskin magicked Belle out of the ground, slipping the bow onto his back once more, striving to keep his tone dismissive. "Get back to the carriage. I'm bored of this forest." 

"You're not going after him?" Belle ignored his instructions, her eyebrows raised.

"He's not worth the effort," he muttered.

"You spared his life." Belle almost sounded.... Smug? 

"What? I did nothing of the sort," he scoffed, sensing that she was approaching him.

"That bow has magic in it. It never misses its target," Belle reminded him pointedly. 

"Well, perhaps the magic just simply wore...." he turned, annoyed, to ask her what she knew of magic, but then found her much closer than expected. He could see the flush on her cheeks from the cool air, the long lashing framing her azure eyes. Her nearness threw him off balance, as did the expression on her face. No fear or distaste for him, just that spine of steel. "--off." he finished lamely. 

Belle's lips pursed and he braced himself for another verbal lashing from his plucky maid. But then, before he could push her away, Belle stretched up on her tippy toes and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close. He stood rigidly, flummoxed by the closeness. Then, before he even thought to enjoy it, Belle pulled back, her hands running down her chest, a satisfied smile on her face.

Belle took a couple strides towards the direction of the carriage, then turned and looked back at him, smiling slyly up at him through her eyelashes. "Aren't you coming?" she asked innocently. 

He only remembered to grab the quiver after he regained the ability to think about anything other than her. Floored, he followed her, meek as a mouse. Belle didn't look back, but she did wait for him at the carriage and he helped her in, still stunned. She arranged her skirts across from him and smiled, completely at ease. 

She didn't fear him. She very clearly didn't find him repulsive, even though today had been about proving her wrong. He'd been ugly today, yet still she'd hugged him. She'd encouraged his acts of empathy. She'd forced him to prove - to her and to himself - that he had compassion and goodness in him. 

He found himself staring at her whenever she wasn't looking. And, considering that she spent the journey staring in fascination out of the carriage, it was almost the entire ride. Her dress, once so fine and elegant, was now soiled. It wouldn't be warm enough for her, as winter encroached quickly from the mountains. 

The idea was in his head before he could stop himself and no matter how hard he tried, did not disappear. It was quite insistent and by the time they arrived home, to the castle, and the carriage had pulled to a stop in the stables, it was already done. He eased himself out and then turned, offering his arm to Belle for support. She took it and then didn't let it go as they crossed the grounds and then back into the warmth of the castle.

"Looks like you won't be needing that bow anymore." Belle only let go of his arm when they entered the main hall so she could go to hang their cloaks by the fire. He looked down at the smooth, dark wood of the bow and felt oddly sentimental. 

"Actually, I think I'll hold onto it. You never know. Could come in handy someday." his fingers curled around it, thinking of how it felt to have Belle in his arms, for however brief it had been. 

"Well, if you don't need me for anything else, good night, Rumplestiltskin." Belle bowed her head and gave a little curtsey and his heart gave a painful thud. It was now or never, he supposed. He wetted his lips and called after Belle's retreating figure, 

"No, wait. There is something else." 

"Oh?" Belle's smile was a little too knowing. Again, she took up his arm and he led her through a door that had newly appeared off the hall. They climbed the stairs together, Belle's warmth at his side bolstering his confidence as he went. At the top of the stairs, he pushed open the heavy, wooden door. 

Belle's little gasp was enough to reassure her that he'd made the right choice. She gave his arm a brief squeeze and then she was gone, rushing around the circular room, the walls filled with books. The library was the tower opposite his study and therefore had a similar layout, but he'd revised it to Belle's taste. The awe on her face made his stomach turn in a rather pleasurable way. 

"Temper your excitement, dearie. This is merely another room for you to clean," he warned her and Belle grinned at him over her shoulder, not bothered in the slightest by him. She pulled one book down, running a hand reverently over the cover. 

"It's.... It's beautiful. There's more books in here than I could read in a lifetime,” she told him, beaming. 

"Well, I hope you can clean faster than you can read," he quipped and she held the book to her chest, approaching him with a glint in her eyes. It should have made him wary, but all he could feel was anticipation. 

"Did you do all this for me?" she asked, though the smile on her face gave away that she already knew the answer.

"I better not see a single speck of dust gathering on any of these books," he warned and Belle stopped a few paces away from him, her lips still quirked upwards. How was she not fearful of him? He lowered his tone dangerously. "What are you smiling at? I'm serious."

"You're not who I thought you were. And I'm glad." she reached for his hand and brought it to her chest with a squeeze. He gave her a squeeze back without thinking about it and then Belle dropped it, already racing off to look for more books. He watched her, an uncomfortable sort of fondness making his throat tight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> she has her library!!! 
> 
> love, blessings, and reviews?


	8. if i keep my promises and you keep yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> merry christmas to those of you who celebrate it!!! i know it's weird and different this year so have some rumbelle fluff a day early!

Well, today had rather been a whirlwind, Belle reflected as she settled on a chaise in the library with her book. From thinking that she was going to be killed - or at the very least, turned out - to having an entire library gifted to her. The whole adventure vindicated her, she thought smugly. 

Rumplestiltskin did have a heart. 

Granted, he kept it well hidden, behind snarls and snaps and beastly roars. He didn't like showing it, so she had to approach it sideways or backwards, anything to cause him to slip up and reveal himself. But it was there. And slowly, she vowed, she would get him to trust her. After all, he was the one she'd be spending the rest of her life with. 

Thank god he had mysteries enough to last her that long. 

The thought seemed odd in her mind. When she phrased it like that, it sounded like.... Marriage? After all, they'd said vows. To have and to hold, perhaps not. But to protect, certainly. He'd protected her from that vile sheriff. And she'd protected him from making a choice he would've surely regretted. And it was forever. 

But her eyes were growing heavy. She'd been hit with a sudden burst of energy when he'd shown her the library and she'd pulled down a stack of books as tall as her, determined to read through them all and make up for lost time. But she would still have her chores in the morning and it would be better not to upset her master after testing him so much today. 

Her eyes drifted shut, first once, then twice. When it happened the third time and the book actually slipped from her grasp onto the floor, Belle roused herself enough to stand and pick it up. Yawning, she started back for the dungeons, lamenting that it was so far. 

Except.... This landing. When did this landing get here? Certainly not on her way up with Rumplestiltskin. Pausing, she glanced to her left and saw a door, half opened, beckoning enticingly to her. There was the faint flicker of dancing firelight so she pushed the door open the rest of the way. Only to put out the fire, she assured herself. Then she'd carry right on the dungeon where she belonged. 

Oh, but there was a bed in there. Warm and soft and inviting, a large four poster with fluffy pillows and downy sheets. The fire crackled and filled the room with warmth and her limbs were suddenly heavy, so heavy, and she took a step towards the bed, then two, and all of the sudden she collapsed down on it. 

The castle revealed things by magic, by Rumplestiltskin's magic. If it chose to reveal this room to her, perhaps it was because he wanted her to have it? Just like the library, and the cloak, and the soup? Belle tried to reassure herself with these thoughts as she drowsily pulled the blankets up to her chin. And if he didn't, she'd beg forgiveness and wash the sheets and make it up again just so. 

Sleep overtook her before she could worry about it any further. 

When she woke in the morning, it was so slow she hardly realized it was happening at all. Her sleeps in the dungeon were fitful, constantly waking up and rolling over, uncomfortable on her pallet with the chill and constant fear of mice. But this bed was wonderful, like sleeping on a cloud, and perfectly warm. 

For a moment, she almost believed she was home. 

But then her eyes opened and she remembered it all in a rush; ogres, deals, dark castles, thieves, and the way that Rumplestiltskin's skin had felt beneath her own. The thought made her sit straight up in bed, heart racing. 

"No," she whispered to herself, touching numb lips. Had she really done all that? Hugged him, held his hand, embraced him? She had pushed him too far. She had assumed too much familiarity. He would think her silly or foolish, a girl-child. 

But.... Then he'd given her the library. The memory made her flush. It was beautiful and lovely and seemed to be all hers. The way he'd smiled as she raced around, pulling books down, had been.... Indulgent. She knew when he was dealing, when he was pulling tricks. This didn't seem to be that time. 

She looked around the bedroom. It was on the smaller side, with a window that overlooked the inner courtyard she'd seen yesterday on her walk to and from the stables. It contained her large bed, a small nightstand with a candle on it, the fireplace, and there, in the corner, a wardrobe. Frowning, she swung her legs out of bed. That hadn't been there the night before, she was sure of it. 

Her gown was even more crumpled than usual. The hike through the forest had done significant damage to it, as had a few weeks of working in it. She sighed as she felt the silk fabric between her fingers. And it had been so fine when he'd first seen her....

Tentatively, in case she'd misunderstood this all, she approached the wardrobe and pulled it open, gasping in surprise when she realized that it was full. There, on one end, was the fine gold and green cloak that he'd conjured for her yesterday. And the rest of it was filled with clothes - thick stockings, more than a few simple nightgowns, mittens and a hat, and there. 

In the center, was the loveliest gown she'd ever seen. 

Well, perhaps ‘gown’ was an overstatement. It was more like a frock, one she'd seen the servants and maids wear at her castle. But it was fresh and clean, which seemed like a miracle to her. A light white undershirt, the fabric soft and nearly see-through. Then a bodice and skirt for over that, a lovely blue color. She ran her hand over it and realized that it was the same color as her eyes. 

The stitching was what drew her eye. Small, and impeccably neat, it was as though someone had sewn gold into the seams. For a breath, she thought that he had simply magicked all these into the room, done with a breath and thoughtless hand twirl. 

But there, and there, and there. She caught a few tiny errors - barely perceptible, found only because she'd once been a princess and knew to look for such things. This, at least, seemed to have been made just for her. When had he done such a thing? At night, while she slept? 

The idea made her smile as she held the dress close. He was an odd one, her master. Gifting her clothes and a library for defying him. Perhaps she would do it more often, to see if it yielded similar results. 

Laughing at the notion, she discarded her golden gown. She'd wash herself up later, when she was doing the laundry. But for now, she'd have to make tea and breakfast for herself and Rumplestiltskin. Then she'd ask him about this room, these clothes, and the library. She could hardly wait. 

She went bounding down the stairs, delighting in the way that her new dress was short enough that she no longer nearly tripped on it. With a lightness in her step that she hadn't felt for a long time - what fresh air and a good night's sleep could do! - she made her way to the kitchen. 

Tea was a bright and cheery floral blend this morning to reflect her mood. And for once, she managed to neatly crack an egg into the pan without the shell falling in too, and so it was with a smile that she brought everything up to the main hall to be served. 

"Good morning," she chirped to Rumplestiltskin, who was sitting in his chair and observing her. 

"You seem.... Chipper, dearie," he remarked as she poured his tea and served him the eggs. She noticed the way that his eyes ghosted over her new dress and then the corners of his mouth twitched, like he was fighting a smile. 

"I slept very well last night," she informed him with a smile, sitting to take her own meal. 

"I'm surprised you slept at all." he took a sip of the tea. "I thought you'd spend the whole night reading." 

"Oh, I intended to, but I didn't want to miss breakfast." she smiled at him, enjoying that way that she always caught some of his surprise before he pulled a mask back on. She did enjoy his company, especially when he was being civil. 

"And I see you've been snooping in other parts of the castle," he observed, neatly cutting his food and raising it to his mouth. 

"Not snooping," she corrected, but with a small twinge of guilt. "This, I assume, is mine?" she ran her hand over the dress. "But do I also get to keep the chambers in which I found it?" 

"Well, we can't have you staying in the dungeons any longer," he told her airily. "For one, I intend to tighten security measures so that some nosy, no good maid can't sneak into them any longer and free prisoners." 

"Mhmm." Belle refused to rise to the bait, instead sipping her tea knowingly. 

"What is it you intend to do then today?" he questioned her rather sharply. A moment of kindness followed by a snap, as was his custom. Belle was rather tired of it all. 

"Laundry," she answered with ease. "And perhaps launder myself as well." she took a whiff of her arm and laughed, but when she looked at Rumplestiltskin for his reaction, his face was queerly blank. With a tiny shrug, she took note that this sort of humor wasn't his favorite and quickly moved on. "Then I suppose I will start in on the library. And I do plan on actually cleaning it." 

"As you should," he said faintly, like he wasn't really listening at all. Belle rolled her eyes at him. 

"Is there any certain order you'd like to keep them in?" she asked him and he shook his head. 

"If there is a volume I need, I'll simply call it to me," he explained. "You may set it up for your needs." 

"Thank you," she said softly. So then it really was hers. A retreat, if needed. A sanctuary of sorts. She could hardly wait to see what wonders that roomed contained. 

"And one other thing, dearie," he said abruptly and Belle looked up. "You'll find that you may hang the laundry in the inner courtyard now." 

"Oh." that was quite a surprise. She hadn't tried to get outside since that first day; it'd seemed pointless so she'd given up. But this seemed to be a concession - a rather large one - and a certain amount of trust on his part. "Thank you." 

"Don't thank me." he was back to being cold. "It's simply more work for you. Come spring, you'll spend hours toiling in those gardens!" 

"But for now they will be a welcome choice of fresh air and exercise," she retorted, not put off in the slightest by his announcement. She would be allowed outside, to feel the crisp fall air, to feel the last warming rays of sunshine. It was worth it. It was all worth it! 

She rose, still smiling. He acted as though he had to temper every kind act with harsh words, lest she forget who he was. But she never would. Every day she saw him, with those strange, glinting eyes and the messy hair she rather wished she could tidy up. The scaly, glittering skin that was still soft and warm whenever she touched it. And the clothes, his armor of sorts. He had to see that she already knew him. 

She got up to clear breakfast away, taking the empty chipped cup from him. On a whim, as she turned to go back to the kitchen with the dishes, she allowed herself to take a route that went behind his chair. She lightly danced her fingers across his shoulders and then was gone, smiling at the stunned silence behind her. 

She washed the dishes up quickly and then went to the laundry with more enthusiasm than she could ever remember. Her excitement to get outside made short work of cleaning the tunics of Rumplestiltskin's and her old gown. She got some of the filth and grime out, but it was never going to be the same. That was alright with Belle. 

Neither was she. 

She wrung the clean clothes out before throwing them into a basket and hoisting it high on her hip. She walked out of the castle, beaming when the front door eased open under the lightest touch. She paused for a moment in the sunlight, simply enjoying the warmth on her bare skin. The day was cool but she didn't need her cloak. She turned and saw where a line had been strung and went, eager to explore. 

She hung up the clothes and then left them to ripple in the wind. She wanted to test out her newfound freedom and see what she was allowed to do. She walked this way and that, until she found the borders of where she could and could not go. 

She couldn't reach all of the high walls surrounding the castle. It was as though a gentle hand pushed her back whenever she tried to take steps towards it. The same for the stable; Belle could see it in the distance but never quite reach it. That wasn't bothersome to her; instead she focused on what she could reach. 

The front gardens, for one. Neatly kept, with all different kinds of flowers. Most of them seemed to be past their days of blooming, but Belle still caught a whiff here and there of something lovely. And the back gardens, off to the side of the large, main castle, where she delightedly found squash, pumpkins, and apples to be in season. There were beds for herbs and for fruits, the scale to rival Belle's old home. 

She plucked a few apples from the tree for later and then made one final loop. She'd have to go in soon, to make lunch, but right now she was so content in the sun. She stood there, knowing she looked odd while doing it but not caring in the slightest. 

"Alright then," she told herself firmly, when she started dragging her feet to go back in. "Lunch, then library." 

Heartened by the fact that she'd get to do some reading, she went back into the castle to fix the food. She'd learned, through both the castle's help and trial and error, that Rumplestiltskin preferred the simple diet most peasants stuck to. A large hunk of bread, cheese, and simple mead suited him perfectly fine most days. She wondered if it was a long habit or simply a quirk. After all, he had to have been someone before all this. Evil sorcerers were made, not born. 

Today, Belle placed an apple on the plate as well. 

"And you needn't worry about dinner, dearie, for I've been called away to talk to the prince of---" he stopped midstream when he magicked himself into the room and realized that she was already sitting, eating her own similar meal.

"The prince of where?" she asked mildly and he blinked, evidently fixated on the apple. Slowly, he pointed to it and Belle raised an eyebrow. 

"Did you.... Bring me that?" he asked with a suspicious expression and she rolled her eyes at his quirks. 

"I didn't poison it," she told him with a sigh. "I picked some while I was outside this morning. They're quite tasty. I'd try to make a pie, but I'd ruin it and waste perfectly good apples." 

"Indeed." for some reason, this put him at ease and he sat. Belle smiled into her cup and waited until he'd had a few bites before asking again, 

"The prince of where?" 

"What?" he looked at her in confusion. 

"You said not to wait up for you tonight, that you'd be called away by some prince," she said patiently. He looked rather surprised. "I was wondering, the prince of where?" 

"Oh." he seemed to catch back up again. "Don't worry your pretty little head with that. All you need to know is that he'll be desperate enough to deal with me!" he gave a mad cackle and Belle continued eating. When he realized he wasn't getting a rise out of her, he calmed somewhat. 

"Do they always call for you, like I did, or do you know somehow when they'll be willing to do something?" she asked, feeling it was a reasonable enough question. For some reason, he jumped as though she'd struck him and narrowed his eyes. 

"Why?" his voice always got so much lower when he was angry, but she preferred it to his high, trilling one. This one at least sounded human. "Desperate again, are we dearie?" 

"I've made one deal with you," she said calmly, "and I certainly don't need another. I'm just curious. It's always going to get me in trouble, or so my father told me." 

That shut him up. He stared at her as he always did, like she was growing a second head before his very eyes. Belle was accustomed to the look; she'd gotten it quite a lot as a child when she'd rather read books than sew dresses. Belle simply finished off her food, blotting her lips and folding her hands neatly in her lap. 

"Both," he said after quite some time. "I can go when I'm summoned or choose to ignore it. If someone is.... Desperate enough, the summons are much stronger. But sometimes, my magic will tell me. Guide me, if you will." 

"Oh." she wondered what it was guiding him towards. He already had money, wealth, and power. What more was there? "I tried to summon you, once." 

"Yes, I know." he gave a grand gesture. "Look where it got you." 

"No, not that time," she informed him, giggling. He lowered his hand, looking at her curiously. "Before. I was on a ship. I found a book with your name in it. I said it three times but you never appeared." 

"Ah." he sat back, folding his arms. She thought she detected a smirk there. "Seems you weren't desperate enough." 

"Or I said it wrong." she gave him an amused smile and rose. "Well, if you do come back early tonight, let me know. I'll be in the library, reading. I'd be happy to put the kettle on." 

He didn't respond to her as she left the room, but she saw the apple clutching in one hand and smiled. 

He was true to his word. He didn't bother her at all the rest of the afternoon and she only sensed that he was gone because the great doors were now locked. Belle didn't mind; she put on a pot of tea for herself and retreated to her newest sanctuary. 

The afternoon was spent with a mixture of cleaning - she had promised, after all - and organizing. She began sorting the books by identifying the ones she'd most like to read and then by categories such as educational, like the indexes and dictionaries or domestic, like the recipes. There were magical books, fairy tales, memoirs, and even some romantic novels. Belle hardly knew where to begin. 

Evening overtook her with piles still surrounding her, but she ignored them in favor of retreating to the chair by the fire with a few and opening them up. She was just browsing the history of castle building when she heard steps on the stairs and looked up in surprise. 

Rumplestiltskin stood at the top of the stairs like he was scared to come in any further. Smiling, Belle rose. 

"I believe you said there'd be tea." he looked rather exhausted, swaying slightly on his feet. Belle nodded, gesturing for him to sit while she got him another cup. Instead, Rumplestiltskin conjured himself a chair and collapsed in it. 

"Did you have a good trip?" she asked, handing him the chipped cup. He downed the tea in one go, licking his lips afterwards.

"Far," he told her, still sounding rather strained. "Very far." 

"Well, nowhere to go now," she said cheerfully, pouring him another cup. When it was clear that he wasn't going to swallow this one in an instant, she went back to her own chair and sat, taking up her book again. She read a few pages, then peeked at him over the top. He was sitting and staring into the coals, looking almost content. 

With a smile, she went back to her pages. 

* * *

  
  
  
  


It was a cold and dreary fall day when the thing Belle was dreading most finally happened. She awoke with a groan, the pain the first thing that crossed her mind. She curled up into a ball, hoping that the pressure of her hands against her stomach would relieve some of the pain. 

It was no use. 

She'd been expecting this, but it didn't make the cramps any easier, especially when she had no idea what she was going to do. She got up gingerly, trying to remember what it was that the old cook had put in her tea to help. Was it a root of some kind? Or a leaf? She'd have to see if there was a book in the library that she could consult. In the meantime, she had a different problem to attend to. 

She'd been in the castle for nearly a month. In all those days, it had yet to fail to provide her with anything she needed. Food. Dishes. Crockery. Fire wood. Water. She simply thought about it and it appeared. But when she stopped to think now about womanly supplies, nothing. 

Perhaps because it's magic stemmed from it's master, the Dark Castle did not think to serve things only a woman might need? 

Sighing, Belle realized that only left her with two real options. One, try to improvise. She could try to rip up some rags. But she wasn't sure if Rumplestiltskin would approve of that. Or she could ask him outright. After all, he had been the one to demand she come with him and that he would take care of her. Surely he knew what that entailed. She was a woman, and a young one at that. Did he know of biology and anatomy? 

"Rumplestiltskin," she said softly, in case it was too early and he didn't appreciate being called on. He appeared with a poof as he usually did, apparently already up. Or maybe he didn't sleep? She was vague on the details. 

"Another mouse, dearie?" he quipped with a mad little cackle, before realizing how pale she was and unsteady on her feet. His expression quickly shifted to concern as he went to her side, catching her arm carefully. His voice lost the high trill as he asked her, not ungently, "Belle, what is it?" 

"I, uh, need something," she told him with a winch and his eyebrows went together. 

"Are you ill?" he demanded, guiding her back to the edge of the bed. 

"In a manner of speaking," she replied and his mouth opened to ask her more questions, but then he saw it. The rust-colored stain in the middle of her bed. 

If Belle hadn’t been so embarrassed, it might have been highly entertaining to watch the emotions that ran over his face before he could think to hide them. First there was the lingering concern and fear that she was actually hurt or sick. Then, a slightest hint of confusion. Why would she be bleeding? Then recognition, his jaw dropping slightly. 

So he was man enough to know what this meant then. 

"Ah," he breathed, letting go of her rather abruptly. 

"You can call me a child, but I haven't been one for a few years." she couldn't resist teasing him, but regretted it almost instantly. His eyes bugged out of his head and he swallowed hard, backing up a few paces. Belle wished he wouldn't go. 

"Yes." he sounded almost faint. "Yes, of course. I should've.... I will.... Of course."

"Do you know what's needed?" she asked him and he briefly screwed his eyes shut, making a rapid gesture. A hamper appeared on the end of Belle's bed; when she peeked inside, it included everything a girl could need for this week. 

"Is that all?" he asked tightly and she nodded. He disappeared again, leaving her with her hamper and an inkling of amusement. Well, apparently it was still possible to surprise him. The thought was comforting. 

She readied herself for the day, still flinching at the lingering pain in her stomach. She'd have to wash the bed linens, but she was just grateful it was her nightgown that had gotten the worst of it. She headed down to the kitchen to prepare the tea but was startled to see Rumplestiltskin already sitting at the table with two steaming cups. 

"Oh, I was going to--" she started and he glanced back at her, quite composed now. 

"Going to add motherwort to the tea?" he asked, voice level. Belle nodded in surprise. "I'm a sorcerer Belle. I have remedies for the pain that are a much surer bet than that." 

"Right." feeling a bit silly, she sat and took up her tea. It was the first time he'd ever served her and she felt like she was the one on uneven ground now. She took a sip and sighed as the hot liquid slid down her throat and towards her belly, the pain already lessening. 

"Forgive me," he muttered, staring into his own tea. "It's been quite some time, I'd rather forgotten the ways in which you women differ." 

"That's alright," she said automatically, more surprised that he seemed to know this from experience. Had there been maids before her? The thought made her feel oddly hollow. 

"I've, uh, added a few accommodations to the castle," he said, evidently trying to approach this carefully. Belle sipped her tea, enjoying the way that the pain was slowly leeching out of her body. "There is now a washroom off your chambers. It has a bath and will have warm water for you." 

A bath? An honest to goodness bath? Belle stared at him in shock. This was above and beyond anything that she could ever ask for. A hot bath was a rarity before the ogre wars and now she had one at her whimsy, simply because she had told him that she was on her period? But he wasn't done. 

"I think it would be best if you had the day off to rest. I will be out on business, so there will be no need to prepare meals for me. There will be a kettle of this tea in the yellow pot and it will stay warm at all times." his eyes searched her face. "Are you feeling better?" 

"Yes," she told him, a bit dazed. A day off, a hot bath, and endless tea to keep her pain at bay? She hadn't been treated so royally, not even at home. "I-- I can't begin to thank you enough." 

"Ah, well." he gave a nervous sort of laugh. "Not necessary my dear. You simply rest up. I'm afraid I've overworked you." 

"It's a period, not a deadly illness," she reminded him with a little laugh. "I'll be right as rain in a few days." 

"Even so," Rumplestiltskin remarked rigidly and she decided to ease up. No matter how thoughtful he was, he was still a man and they usually wanted to avoid such topics. "Rest. Please." 

"Alright." she agreed and finished off her tea. She was feeling much better so she asked him, "where does business take you today?" 

"Not far, so I could be home in a blink if needed." he was determinedly avoiding her eyes now. "Just a few odds and ends I need to wrap up, but the clientele can be.... Touchy." 

"Well, best of luck." it was the most he'd ever revealed willingly so she decided not to push it. "Thank you for the tea. If it's alright, I might go have a bath. That does sound excellent." 

"Of course." he inclined his head to her and was quiet as she left. Belle made her way back up to her chambers, realizing that there was now a small room off to the side. It did indeed include a washbasin, a chamber pot, and a large tub that would entirely immerse her. 

She waved a hand over the top in an imitation of the gestures she'd seen Rumplestiltskin do. To her surprise, it instantly began to fill with slightly steaming water. Delighted at herself, she began to shed her layers, goosebumps rising over her skin as the flesh was exposed to fresh air. At the last second she had an idea and darted back into her room to get the book she'd been reading before bed. Then she eased herself into the bath. 

It was beyond lovely. This water, unlike home, never cooled. It stayed warm the entire time she sat in it, all the tension easing. She idly flipped the pages of her book, occasionally ducking under to feel the warm water flow off her face. Oh, how would she ever thank him for this gift? 

It was the hunger that finally drove her up and out. She dried herself off and slipped on fresh clothes, choosing to stay in one of her loose under-dresses. She didn't want to ruin any of her good dresses and with Rumplestiltskin not being home anyways, she would be quite content to run around like a child again. 

She fixed herself something warm to eat and hot then decided to read by the fire, her feet up. Once her eyes started to blur slightly, she washed her sheets and nightgown, then remade her bed. Then, as evening approached, she headed back down the kitchen. 

She had to thank him somehow. He'd done so much for her. She drank a few more cups of his soothing tea while she did her research. The recipe was simple, apparently, and she knew that all could be found within the castle. Bolstered by the confidence and the tea, she set to work. 

It was not, perhaps, the same thing from the recipe book. But when Belle put the finishing touches on it, it was undoubtedly the best thing she'd ever created. And just in time as well, as it appeared that Rumplestiltskin was home. She was still in her under-dress so she simply threw a robe on. 

"Dearie?" he sounded so hesitant. "How are you feeling?" 

"Hold on," she called, picking up the tray and hurrying upstairs. He was standing in the main hall with his traveling clothes on, looking around for her. When he alighted on her, his eyes instantly went sky-high, something like a blush covering those cheeks. 

"Did I interrupt you?" he questioned, sounding both scornful and strangled all at once.

"Not at all," she said cheerfully, setting the tray down. They lived together. Surely he could deal with the sight of her in her nightgown. "I made you a surprise." 

"Indeed you did." he averted his eyes to the dish, where they promptly widened. Poached pears in wine with spices and sugar, still warm from the fire. For a second, he simply stared at it in shock. 

"To thank you, for everything," Belle explained helpfully and he blinked. 

"Quite right," he said softly and Belle smiled, gesturing for him to sit. He did so and she served him a plateful, then a much smaller portion for herself. After a second, he dug in and Belle did the same, surprising even herself with how good it was. 

They ate in companionable silence and when they were done, it was Rumplestiltskin who rose and gathered their dirty plates. And when he passed by her, she felt fingers ghost over the nape of her neck. 

She could hardly sleep that night. 

* * *

  
  
  


"Snow?" Belle stared at him in disbelief. "It's snowing?"

"Yes." Rumplestiltskin frowned at her. "Have you never seen snow before, dearie?" 

"No," Belle breathed in wonder. 

She and Rumplestiltskin were standing the foyer together; a guest had arrived to deal with him earlier this afternoon. Belle had found herself rather abruptly taken from her chore of cleaning away cobwebs and found herself locked in the library. It wasn't the first time he'd done it; what Belle objected to was the way he did it without warning. Magic without preparation always left her a bit dizzy. 

So the second the guest left, she'd come marching down to yell at him for it. But she'd promptly gotten distracted by the view from the door as the hooded visitor disappeared. The entire castle had been blanketed in a few inches of fluffy white power, muffling everything. 

"It's been snowing all afternoon," he told her, slightly miffed. "Did you not notice in the slightest?" 

"No." first she'd been cleaning and then she'd been locked away, so she took the opportunity to read. She hadn't looked out the windows since the early part of the morning. "Oh, can I go see it?" 

"Shouldn't you get back to cleaning?" he asked her snidely and she ignored him, trying to push past him to exit. When the entrance was blocked by a seemingly invisible force, she turned to him with frustration. Surely he didn't really mean for her to clean now? 

Except he was smirking. And also holding her cloaks and gloves, already adorned in his own. Belle snatched them from him silently and pulled them on. Only once she was properly attired did he remove the barrier and she was allowed to go charging outside like a rather ungainly horse. 

Oh, snow was cold! And wet! Belle picked up a handful of the stuff, marveling at it. It melted away on her gloves, so she grabbed more and more, trying to keep it all together. Except it would only turn to water. She turned to Rumplestiltskin, then was surprised to find him so close to her. 

"Doesn't it stick together?" she asked him, feeling foolish to show him her wet gloves. 

"Ah, you need a different kind of snow for that," he explained but then waved a hand. A small ball of snow, roughly the size of Belle's fist, now sat in his palm. "But try this." 

"Thank you!" she cried in delight, taking it. It was lighter than she expected it to be and after a second of turning it over in her hand, she reacted on pure instinct. 

She looked up at Rumplestiltskin and threw it right at his chest, where it exploded in a spray of dazzling white. 

Belle stayed quite still, shocked by her action - her mistake! - and what consequences it would have. With sick dread, she watched as he carefully wiped his chest clean. She opened her mouth, to apologize or defend or plead for her life, but then there was a little poof of smoke and suddenly she was on the receiving end of one such snowball, gasping at the stinging cold of it. 

When she looked up, there was an expression on his face that looked like hope. And there was a pile of magically made snowballs at her feet. Shrieking with glee, she scooped them up and dove for cover behind a tree. 

She had never had such fun. It should've been very easy for Rumplestiltskin to overtake her with his magic, yet he held off, letting her actually hit him a few times. Belle did take far worse, her cloak and gloves soon soaked. Only when her teeth started chattering did she run out of snowballs and Rumplestiltskin called a ceasefire. 

"Oh, what fun!" she cried, when they made their way back to the castle. "We don't get snow like that. We just get frost!" 

"Avonlea is blessed with a mild climate," he told her, helping her out her cloak. "You're fortunate to be able to grow plants there year-round."

"But snow is fun," she insisted, hurrying for the fireplace. Her hands burned as they warmed up. 

"You'll be quite sick of it once you're unable to even take a turn about the grounds with it being a foot high," he warned her and she gasped at the thought. 

"Will that happen soon?" 

"No," he answered her, seemingly amused at her delight. "This snow will melt soon too, I'm afraid. It's the false snow, before the real ones come." 

"Oh, like the false spring," she replied, thinking of the one day in the winter where the sun shined bright and warm again, before descending under clouds for a few more weeks. 

"Precisely," he answered and Belle smiled even as tears pricked her eyes. It wasn't that she was homesick. She didn't want Rumplestiltskin to think that and get upset or mock her for it. It was just that she yearned for familiarity, the sensing of knowing something so intimately it was wrapped up in her very bones. Everything here was new and different and though there would be time for her to learn it; her whole life in fact, Belle still missed home. 

"Sorry," she muttered, dashing away tears before he could see. But for once, Rumplestiltskin didn't berate or tease her. He was staring at her, a closed expression on his face. She hoped she hadn’t upset him. It wasn’t that she was unhappy here. In fact, she’d found a measure of belonging that she’d never expected. 

But it still wasn’t home. 

“You miss it.” he said it without malice. Belle managed a nod, swiping at the tears, glad he didn’t seem too upset with her. “Would…. Would you like to see?” 

“See?” she raised her gaze to his, hardly daring to hope. Slowly, he went to a small mirror on the way and pulled off the curtains. Belle had originally assumed that he covered them out of a lack of desire to his face. But now, as she watched him mutter something and the surface of the glass flickered, she realized that he could use it to see things. And if he could see out, perhaps others could see in? 

“Come here,” he ordered, not unkindly, and Belle slowly approached. There, in the mirror, was a strange sort of scene. It took her a second to realize the vantage point; it was as if they were birds, flying over Avonlea. Belle gasped and took a step forward to his side where she gripped his hand tightly. Before them spread out a building of cut stone, with walls and towers that Belle knew like her own face, being busily repaired by little moving specks that could only be humans. 

“The palace,” she breathed and it was as though they banked and dove, turning over the countryside with the fall trees and the still-green grass. She could see people, the size of ants, milling about. They were harvesting in the fields and the orchards, in the vineyards and the gardens. Belle’s people. 

“The ogres have been cast out,” Rumplestiltskin muttered quietly behind her as she watched, enchanted. “The people have returned to their lands, even those near the borders. They are making them fertile again.” over the fields and towards the sea now. She saw fishermen with their nets and children playing in the sand. She saw joyful faces, no fear pinching them tightly. The land was healing. Her people were thriving. “They live Belle, because of your sacrifice.” 

“Yes.” the tears were making it hard to see, but she could make out the palace once again. Rumplestiltskin circled it once, then twice to show her how the walls were being built up again, a roof replaced, the gardens replanted. He never showed her where her father might be, but that was alright. She wasn’t sure she could take such a view. Then the mirror began to pull back, everything falling away until it was but a wisp and then suddenly gone, Belle’s tear-streaked reflection staring back at her. She let all her breath out, not even realizing that she’d been holding it. 

“A letter from home,” he said softly and she let his hand go. 

“Thank you.” shakily she took a breath and tried to smile at him. “You’ve given me all sorts of gifts it seems.” 

“Well, consider this the last.” he was already moving away from her and Belle was suddenly aware of how lonely it left her. “I will be leaving tonight. For Camelot. I have an item to retrieve there and I may not be back for several days.” 

“Oh.” Belle couldn’t contain her surprise. He’d never left her alone for more than a day before. The thought of being here all by herself was alarming. 

“You’ll be allowed to leave the castle during daylight hours, but not past sunset. The inner courtyard is as far as you’ll go. No one will be able to get in, I’ll ensure that.” 

“Yes, of course.” mind spinning, she tried to reach out for him. “But, Rumplestiltskin, wait—“

Yet he was already gone. 

The first day of his absence was rather nice. Belle swanned around the castle, enjoying the fact that he wasn’t going to interrupt her. But the novelty wore off, so she settled back into her routine of cleaning and reading, but even after a few days of that it got old. So she turned to the pastime that she didn’t dare attempt when she knew Rumplestiltskin might come home. She opened the cabinet to inspect his magical items. 

She knew there was nothing in there that was terribly dangerous in there. He’d cleared it out the first time she’d cleaned it. But there were still so many things and she was so curious…. And there was a massive sword she’d wanted to try out. She’d never gotten to try as a girl on account of it not being ladylike. Belle didn’t care; she wanted to act as a hero for once. Reverently, she lifted the heavy thing up and imagined herself as a sort of lady knight when out of nowhere - 

"Don't cut yourself, dearie!” 

“Aah!” Belle jumped and nearly took off her own hand. She looked up at him with anger and also shock, unsure if she was going to chide him or apologize. In the end, it was both. “I thought you weren’t going to scare me anymore! But… I am so, so sorry. I thought…"

"You thought I would be away for a few more days and it would be fine to play with my…. Toys.” he took the sword from her gingerly.

"Well, you did say that….” she started and he gave her a withering look.

“Oh, I lied. I wanted to see how the mouse would play while the cat was away. And the mouse has done very little.... Cleaning.” he drug a finger down the table to show her the dust. Belle rolled her eyes. 

“You just have so many things here from all over the world. I was curious,” she explained, gesturing to all the artifacts around the room. For as long as she’d been here, and likely for as long as she would, she’d never be able to see everything he’d collected. "And.... You never talk about them.” 

"Well, you're just the help,” he sneered and Belle gasped, wagging her finger as she strode for him. She'd forgotten how quickly he got under her skin.

“And you're rude,” she said hotly, as he looked down at her, one eyebrow quirked, his face otherwise impassive.

"Well, I could be much worse.” 

“Hmm, but you're not,” she reminded him, her anger dying away slightly. She had been in the wrong to touch things that weren’t hers, whatever her intentions were. That didn’t mean, however, that she was going to let him bully her over it. "Look, you have seen the world, something that I've always wanted to do, yet you share nothing.” 

"Mouthy, mouthy,” he remarked, amused. She bit back a smile. She had missed him, when all was said and done. The castle was lonely without him and so was she. "And foolishly brave.”

"No, if you were going to kill me, you would have done it long ago,” she stated confidently and saw him struggle not to smile. She went to go get them tea, hoping that he might indulge her with a story. "Now, tell me what you've seen. How was your trip to Camelot?” she asked eagerly and he paused in thought.

"Good for me. Not so good for Camelot.” with a flick of the wrist, he conjured a gauntlet from thin air and thrust it at her. "A souvenir. Clean it for me, will you?"

"Oh. What is it?” she took it careful and for a moment he hesitated like he wasn’t going to tell her.

"It's a magic gauntlet with a very specific power. It can locate anyone's greatest weakness,” he explained slowly and Belle glanced at it, then at him.

"Hmm. How ominous. But why do you need this? With all your power, you could destroy any foe,” she reasoned and watched as his eyebrows flew up. For a second, he almost seemed impressed.

“Look, if you must know, it's about manipulation. And for that, you must find one's weakness. And for almost everyone, that weakness is the thing they love most.” something flickered deep in his eyes. "This will simply point me in the right direction.” 

“Ah.” Belle set it aside and clapped her hands together. “Tea then?” 

“Yes dearie.” he sat and Belle went to ready it, smiling. She brought it up in his customary chipped cup and he took it, looking like he finally relaxed. Belle waited for him to take a few sips before she decided to get back at him for his scaring her earlier. 

"So, I figured it out.... Why you collect so many magical objects,” she stated and he raised any eyebrow, taking a sip. "You have a hole in your heart.” 

It was an overstep. Anger settled over his face and when he leaned forward, it was with a snarl she hadn’t seen in a long time. She fought everything in her being to not run away. He would not scare her. She would not let him scare her anymore! 

"There's only one thing missing from my life right now,” he hissed and she internally braced herself to be struck. "Clean clothes.” 

In a blink, she found herself outside with the laundry. She gasped and swayed on her feet, off balance from the magic as always. After a second, the dizziness wore off, replaced by anger and a bravery she only felt when she wasn’t facing him. "You're just upset because you know I'm right,” she muttered darkly, going to pluck things off the line. "And no, I am not talking to myself,” she raised her voice, "because I know you can and do listen to me!” at least she was in her cloak. Small mercies, she supposed. Then, just when she was glowering, she heard the whining of a dog. Confused, she turned and looked for one. 

A small Dalmatian puppy was sitting there, with the prettiest blue eyes. "Hello, puppy,” she cooed, wondering if this was Rumplestiltskin’s way of apologizing to her. It was certainly the quickest he’d ever said sorry. But just as she went to pet it, it took off into the woods. Belle chased after it, sighing at Rumplestiltskin’s tricks. "Hi. Hi,” she called, pausing to look around. "Gah! Where did you go?” then all of the sudden, arms were around her and she couldn’t breathe and — it went black. 

She opened her eyes, finding herself on a cold stone floor. She groaned, raising her head up. She was bound and gagged and her head hurt, but the most concerning thing was the three women who stared at her. Upon her trying to sit up, the tall, gaunt one turned to the shorter, pale woman and gestured towards Belle. 

“Well? She’s awake now. Your turn.” 

“Who…. Are…. You?” Belle muttered. She didn't seem injured, at least not in any way that really mattered. But the bars told her that this was not going to be fun, whatever it was. 

“That doesn’t matter,” the third woman told her, dark eyes glinting in the low light. “You’re going to call your master here. Or you’ll have more pain than just an aching head.” 

“Rumplestiltskin?” she would never draw him into a trap. “No I…. I won’t.” 

“Yes you will,” laughed the first woman. “We’re not scared to kill you, girl.” 

“And if you do as told, perhaps you’ll buy yourself enough time to figure out a way to save him…. And yourself,” the pale woman remarked cruelly and Belle felt magic wrap around her, squeezing her tighter and tighter until she cried out, unable to breathe.

“Alright.” she lay gasping on the floor. “What…. What do you want me to say?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are as loved and cherished as my new mixer! 
> 
> merry christmas to all and to all a good night!


	9. you may never pass through the same door twice, for you've changed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plz ignore my desperate bid to turn canon into something that actually fits the sense of rumbelle that we deserve
> 
> enjoy the nonsense my friends

He has felt the tug from the protection spell around the castle first, alerting him that some unwanted presence was there. For the briefest of moments, he thought that Belle was trying to escape. Annoyed, he was just rising to investigate it when the protection spell he’d placed around Belle directly stopped his breathing with the force of it’s pull. She was in grave danger. It only took him a second to get to where he’d dropped her amongst the laundry. He pushed it aside, hoping that she was just doing something foolish.

"Belle? Belle?! Where have you gone?” he yelled, trying not to let panic rise. "Don't tell me you've done something stupid like running away!” he had not lost her. He could not lose her. For once, he still had no idea how she would help bring him back to Bae. And the other reason, the one he couldn’t stand to think on, was that somehow, she’d become something precious to him. Her loss would be….

The crowing of a raven brought his eyes up to the grey, formidable sky and he was snarling when it dropped a tiny sand dollar to the ground in front of him. He knew exactly who this was. He took the message, watching as a tiny, shimmering Belle rose up, bound and fearful, clearly trembling. 

"Rumplestiltskin, I'm.... I'm supposed to ask you for.... For that gauntlet from Camelot. Bring it to the base of Demon's Bluff at midnight or.... Or I'll be killed.” tears stained her fearful face. "Rumplestiltskin, help!” before she could say anything more, the message ended. 

He hadn’t knew such fear and rage in a long time. He barely felt the sand dollar crumpled between his fingers as a hundred murderous thoughts ran through his head. But the first was…. Blame. He looked up at the still circling raven, shaking with fury. "You! I know where you came from! Tell your master I know who she is and she's just crossed a line!” 

He magicked himself back into the castle, into the main room. Belle had left the gauntlet on the table before he’d sent her away. And he’d sent her away. All for what? Because she’d touched the edge of a very ragged wound? He’d let her be closer to that knowledge than anyone in living history. Then he’d gotten scared and pushed her away. And now she was suffering for his mistake, just like they all did. Perhaps he did need the gauntlet for Bae. But he needed Belle too. 

Still taut with rage, he picked up the gauntlet and went to confront them.

"I have what you want, dearie,” he called, upon landing on the bottom of the blasted rock. "Now show yourself.”

“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle’s voice was music to his ears. He spun, seeing her balanced on the spot, tied up tight. "Ow! Help!” she cried and he felt something deep, deep within him crack open. 

"Yes, Rumplestiltskin! Do help her!” Maleficent sneered, appearing in a form of ravens. He dropped any semblance of softness, looking away from Belle. 

"Maleficent. Oh, I am impressed. Didn't think you had it in you,” he retorted and her lips curled up into a smirk. She might have been beautiful once, until magic had exerted its price and carved her features into otherworldly ones - all high cheekbones and sharp eyes. Magic always came with a price, after all. She regarded him coolly. 

"I'm not here for your praise. Give me the gauntlet and you can have your wench back,” she declared and a thousand ways to murder her went through his mind, only briefly tempered by the knowledge that Belle wouldn’t want him to do such a thing. But Belle was in danger. And that was the only thing that mattered.

“Seeing as how you asked so nicely….” he shot his hand out and the witch found herself hanging in midair, choking. He barely heard Belle’s gasp behind him over the sound of the choking and he felt a thrill run through him. This was power. This was strength. “You think you can steal from the Dark One and live? Fatal mistake, dearie! Any last words?"

"I'm.... Not.… Alone,” she rasped and before he could react, thick tentacles wound around Belle’s slim, pale throat.

"The Sea Witch.” he didn’t release Maleficent as his lips curled back. So she’d been smart enough to have backup for this little venture of theirs. Well, perhaps a point in her favor was deserved. 

"Such a pretty thing. Seems a shame I'll have to crack her pipes,” Ursula crooned gently and Belle’s blue eyes were wide with terror as the tentacles tightened, so slowly. 

"Harm one hair on her head, Maleficent burns,” he warned her from between gritted teeth. How he hated feeling at a disadvantage. He was acutely aware that it was because he’d shown a bit of weakness by even coming for Belle. How had they found out about her? How had they known that she was even his? 

“And Ursula will kill your maid, and where will that leave us?” asked a cruel, mocking tone and one final woman strode into view. He had to laugh. How had he not seen her coming? 

"Cruella! Thought I caught a whiff of desperation and gin.” he gave her a feral grin. “I must say, I'm.... I'm surprised to see you all here. Last time we crossed, it looked like things weren't going your way. And unless you hand back my maid, they won't be this time, either."

“Shall I get you a step stool so you can look in my eyes when you threaten me?” Cruella hissed and he had to raise an eyebrow. It was a good one, he’d give her that. But this was all rather tiresome.

"I don't need to threaten you, dearie. It took three of you to get this far, and I promise it isn't far enough.” 

"Have it your way. Ursula, darling, crush the maid's heart,” Cruella said, almost idly. 

He watched in horror as those thick tentacles wrapped tighter and tighter around Belle’s throat and chest. Her beautiful blue eyes were bugging out, her mouth trying to form words that looked too much like his name. He held onto the gauntlet, fighting the inner voices - _she was just a maid! He needed this for Bae! He could not be bested by these three!_

But this was Belle. And so he tossed the gauntlet towards Cruella, trying to seem nonchalant while he released Maleficent. 

“That was, uh, a rather risky endeavor for an old glove, dearies,” he mocked, trying to conceal his concern as Belle dropped to her knees, gasping and massaging her throat. He couldn’t comfort her. He couldn’t show any more weakness then they’d already dragged out of him. But they were too busy gloating and revealing in their victory over him.

"Oh, the risk was worth it. For too long we've lived in a world where the heroes always win.” Ursula preened. 

"And the gauntlet will reveal our enemies' weaknesses, and we will be the victors.” Cruella raised a glass to that.

"Let us go,” Maleficent ordered and with a poof of black smoke, the three women disappeared. He waited for only a moment to make sure they wouldn’t return before he lunged for Belle, soothing any of her hurts with a wave of his hand. He pushed her hair back with concern, trying to see if she was alright. Belle, still holding her throat, looked up at him in shock.

"Why.... Why would you do that?” she asked him. "I - I.... I mean, with that object?"

“They still won't be able to harm you,” he reassured her, gently touching her cheek. He’d make sure of that. A hundred more protection spells on her and he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. He couldn’t seem to stop stroking her hair, trying to reassure himself that she really was alright. For a second, Belle still seemed startled. Then slowly, as her senses returned, a strange look overcame her. She didn't push him away or seem eager to get out of his arms. Instead, she was watching him carefully. 

"Why do you care about me?” she asked him slowly and he stilled his hand. 

"I don’t.” the lie rang false in his ears. "But if anyone's gonna crush your heart, it's gonna be me.” he fought not to touch her as he brought them back home.

He took them straight to Belle’s bedroom. Usually he wouldn’t want to invade her privacy, but this was a different circumstance. He pushed her towards the bed, conjuring a fire in the hearth and bringing up a pot of soothing lemon tea. He called to him the stack of books next to her chair from the library upstairs and dropped them on the table by her bed. He double, then triple checked the protection spells on the room and her. Then, without glancing back at her, he locked her in. 

It only took him a moment to return to the base of Demon's Bluff. The wind whipped around him as he summoned the three queens to him, brought by a magic that they could not resist or even deter. 

"There may come a day when the students surpass the master. But today is not that day,” he warned them as they struggled to break free from his magic. "I want my gauntlet.” 

"We made a deal, Rumplestiltskin, and you never go back on a deal,” Maleficent snarled and he rolled his eyes.

"No. I paid a ransom. Quite different. Demanding a ransom from the Dark One is not a deal. It's a death-wish,” he corrected her, summing the gauntlet back to him. After all, he was still the Dark One. He wouldn’t hurt them too badly. But only because Belle was safe. And he was never going to give up what he didn’t have to. "And a fool's errand. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.” like an injured maid to attend to.

“Whatever you're up to, it'll never work. The game is rigged. The villains never win,” Cruella called and he raised an eyebrow. Of course the game was rigged. And usually he was the one who set the odds. 

"Why don't you join us?” Ursula tried to persuade him. "Perhaps we can change the game together."

He had to laugh. "You severely underestimate me, dearie. I always win. And I win alone. I certainly don't need to join you, uh, Queens of Darkness.” he left them with a poof, knowing that the magic would hold them there longer and make them squirm. 

When he returned, Belle was asleep in her room, soothed by tea and familiarity. He allowed himself into her room, just to reassure himself that she was alright, and then found himself watching her sleep. The gentle rise and fall of her chest. The soft breath, how the thin skin of her eyelids fluttered as she dreamed. 

Oh, she was weakness. She was danger. She was the most valuable thing he held in this castle. He could return her. Right now. A snap of his fingers and she would wake up in her own bed in her own castle, having forgotten the last months. He could make her happy. 

But how long had it been since he was happy? How many years since he'd last felt the heart-stopping, hand trembling, ears rushing sensations that came from the smile of a pretty woman? Belle was the only thing that made him feel anymore, yet his life purpose was Bae. It was always Bae. 

But might it include Belle? 

The thought drove him so wild with fear that he sat at his wheel and spun for three days straight. 

* * *

  
  
  


"Rumplestiltskin!" Belle called, walking into the main hall, brushing snow off herself as she carried in an armful of firewood. She'd recently taken to retrieving it herself, enjoying the limited exercise it provided now that the entire castle was covered in a heavy layer of snow. 

Winter had arrived in full force a week earlier, slowing down their pace of life considerably. Less visitors came to call when the passes were snowed in, and though he could magic himself anywhere, it was nice to remember the days long past where he'd sit by the fire and spin. 

"Here, dearie," he called back. He was sitting at his wheel, which he'd only just brought down to the main hall. He'd done so one evening while Belle read, apparently happy to have his company. Now, they oftentimes spent the evenings together in a rather enjoyable silence. 

"Would today be a good day for me to clean the observatorium?" she asked him, setting the firewood down. She had such a becoming flush on her cheeks from the cold that he almost missed her question entirely; he had to blink and focus. 

"Observatorium?" he asked rather dumbly. 

"Yes, the magical room where you can read the stars." Belle's eyes sparkled. 

"The planetarium," he corrected her automatically then froze. That…. She shouldn’t be able to get to that. It was one of the other towers, at the very top. Carefully, he stopped spinning. "When did you find that?" 

"Yesterday." Belle was beaming, shaking the snow and cold from her. "It's really rather beautiful." 

"Yes, and filthy." on the defensive now, to cover his shock. How on earth had she made it up there? Through what trickery had she bypassed his magic?

"Oh, of course," Belle teased over her shoulder as she built the fire back up. "I'll get on that at once." 

"See that you do." he was watching her warily, unsure he wanted the answer to the next question he was going to ask. "How.... How much else have you found?" 

"Oh, let's see." Belle pretended to be deep in thought as she came to sit next to him, a bit too close. "There's the planetarium, and the pantry and larder. The kitchen, of course, and the dungeon. Several cells and one locked, which I will ask you about at some point. At least a dozen different bedrooms, from my own. The dovecote, and the stables and the greenhouses. And more storage rooms, with all sorts of objects. I haven't touched them," she told him quickly, leaning back apprehensively. 

She mistook his shock for anger, but it was just that - shock. Uneasy shock, for how much she knew. The spell on the castle was intimately tied to him. He had free reign of the place, of course, but any visitor would be limited, only seeing what he allowed. He thought that he'd have to grant Belle permission to the different nooks and crannies of his home, but it was apparently not so. 

At this rate, the only places left hidden from her would be his study, his bedchambers, and the bedroom he'd set aside and carefully protected, in case of a miracle. He stood abruptly, head spinning slightly. Did he trust her so? Or had the spell malfunctioned? No, whispered a rather gleeful voice in his head. The spell functioned perfectly. And the spell knew better than he did. He trusted her. 

"All.... All the more work for you," he said faintly. Belle was staring up at him in some confusion while he struggled to chide her or mock her somehow, but failed. 

When had he let her in? 

"Shall I wait for you to make sure there's nothing out there that will blow me up or something of that nature?" she asked tartly and he managed to glare at her. 

"Perhaps you shouldn't be so nosy." 

"Perhaps," she agreed sweetly. "Or you could show me how things work." 

"So you can try to use them against me?" he demanded, wagging a finger in her face. "Try to harm me?" 

He jumped when Belle swatted at him with a thick volume. It didn't hurt of course - she caught him in the shoulder and he was the Dark One after all - but it did surprise him. He stared at her, speechless, as Belle set the book aside and then brushed her skirts off, prim and proper once more. 

"That's about the most damage I can do to you and you know it," she said evenly and he thought of when she'd been taken from him and it'd felt like he was tumbling through space without anything to right him. Did she really not know her own power? "Will you show me how the planetarium works?" 

"And why would I do that?" he snapped, feeling like he’d been caged in quite unwillingly and she shrugged. 

"I'll warm us up some cider if you do," she offered and he narrowed his eyes. She'd recently taken to making cider out of the apples on the tree and would sweeten it with some of the tea she'd been experimenting with. It made for a heady combination and she'd apparently picked up his preference for it. 

"Bring it up then," he ordered crabbily. "And don't spill a drop!" 

He magicked himself to the planetarium before she could say another word. He needed a moment to calm himself down. So she had the run of the place. So what? He frantically searched his brain for anything of either real value or real danger to her. So there were a few things that might benefit from a locked door. He quickly gathered and sent them to a far storage room with a heavy lock, exhaling hard. 

It was just that he was accustomed to her presence, like one made peace with a particularly bothersome fly that they couldn't shoo from a room. She couldn't find him if he was in his rooms, or Bae's. He hadn’t let her that far in. She didn't know him all that well. And he wouldn't let her think that she did! 

The planetarium wasn't even that big of a deal, after all. He let himself breathe, settling back down. It had been a favorite of his early on as well. Simply spin the dial to select a date and the heavens above them rotated in accordance. He used it to look for past and future dates and occurrences, to study the information that could be gleaned from there. But Belle, with her curious little mind, she would want to inspect it. 

He heard the clinking of the teapot and cups on the tray as she climbed up the stairs. He could've brought the tea to them and saved her the hassle, but he wasn't in the mood to make life easier for her, not when she put him in such turmoil. So he assumed an annoyed expression when she entered the room, all her focus on not spilling anything. 

"Ha!" she crowed, upon setting it down neatly. She gave him a triumphant look which he ignored and then poured them two cups, his with the customary chip. 

"It's rather colder than I like," he informed her snobbishly as he took it. 

"Then warm it up with your magic, oh great Dark One," she said absentmindedly, her eyes already up and staring at the stars. He managed not to snort, but it was a near thing. He did just that, and warmed up hers while he was at it, then took a contented sip. Really, he could tolerate a lot more sass for this tea alone. And her smiles. 

"When were you born?" he asked her curiously and Belle turned to him with a smile. 

"The first day of spring, 18 years ago." 

She was young. Oh, so young. Did he even remember 18? No. And Bae.... Well, he never saw his son at that age, now did he? She was just a girl. And born at the renewal of the earth, how fitting was that? A bright, lovely, hopeful time. Just like Belle. 

He gave his fingers a flick and the sky above them began to spin. Belle gasped, neck craned at an awkward angle. Then she set her tea aside and reclined back, right on the floor. He looked at her, quite nonplussed, but she wasn't paying attention to him. Above her, the stars were slowing, until they stopped, winking in and out above them. 

"The night of your birth," he muttered and Belle reached out, her fingers catching and tangling in his. He jumped away, but she had a firm grip and she was tugging him towards her. After a second, he understood her meaning. For him to lay beside her. It was suddenly very hard to breathe. 

"Do you know what they mean?" she asked him eagerly, as he knelt slowly, trying to arrange himself near her without actually touching her. 

"Er, yes." he magicked them both pillows for their heads. If he was going to be on the floor like a fool, he was going to do it with some comfort. 

"There. That's the serpent," Belle remarked, pointing out the constellations. For a second, he had to repress a wild giggle. What a marvel she was. "It's said that when the serpent shines in the night sky, the person born under it is creative, fertile, and a healer. They can also possess dual natures, good and evil." 

"And you have the dove," he muttered, eyes darting across the stars. "A bringer of peace." 

"And a notorious flighty nature," she laughed and he held his breath as her arm brushed his. "Oh, and look. The Harvest Star was very bright. You know what that means, right?" she turned to look at him with a mischievous grin. 

He did. He knew all the meaning of the stars. He knew how to read them, how to combine them, how to use them to tell someone's future and fortune. But now, when he was looking in Belle's sparkling eyes, the room dark enough to make her outlines blurry, he'd forgotten everything he'd ever learned. 

"No," he whispered and she turned back to the stars. 

"It means I'm stubborn." 

"It should've shone brighter," he muttered darkly. 

They look at the rest of her stars, marveling at them. At one point, Belle's shoulder pressed against his own and she didn't pull away. Once he regained the ability to think clearly, he looked through her stars reluctantly, trying to deduce what was there. 

It was an odd mix, befitting his odd little maid. Great happiness, but also great sorrow. He supposed that was his stealing her away. A compassionate nature, but he didn't need stars to tell him that. A long journey, ended abruptly. Was that her adventure to Arendelle? 

"What are those stars, there?" she asked him quietly, pointing. 

"Ah." he'd been avoiding looking in that area. She had the goddess in her chart, a clear and present sign that she'd be a mother or at least a mother figure. Steeling himself for what he might see, he took a deep breath and turned to look. 

The goddess was there, looming large. And around her.... Winked four tiny stars. He wrinkled his brow, first confused, then annoyed, then angry. Four children, it appeared, that Belle was to raise. He opened his mouth to make a jeering taunt about the children he'd stolen from her when he stopped, quite frozen. 

There, further away and a lot dimmer than the other four, was one more star. It was like it came from a different place, belonged somewhere else but Belle had welcomed it in with open arms. The thought crossed his mind as fast and hot as lightning on a dry summer night. 

Bae? 

"Those stars, there," Belle pointed out helpfully when he remained silent. 

"Nothing, dearie," he said faintly, while his thoughts ran frantic. "Sometimes.... Stars are just stars." 

"Mhmm." Belle was silent for a minute before she bumped him with her shoulder. "What about you? Show me the stars for your birth." 

"I never knew, just that it was in the winter," he said idly, mind still spinning on the meaning of her stars. Belle made a noise beside him and he turned his head quizzically, realizing too late why she appeared so smug. Royals and noblemen always knew the dates of their birth. It was only lowly peasants who didn't. 

Oh, clever girl. 

Annoyed and impressed in equal measure by her sneakiness, he flicked his fingers and the ceiling spun once more. He knew Bae's date of birth. It had been recorded so that when he came of age, he could be called upon to fight. When the stars finally stayed still, he heard Belle's quiet exhalation beside him and watched as her eyes darted all over, trying to figure out what this might be. 

"Oh, Chara and Charus," she muttered, "the hunting dog pair. A strong bond with someone. And there, the protector. A young man, most likely. And there, the chariot. A long, long journey." 

He'd read his son's stars a million times. On the nights he missed him so badly he couldn't bear it. When he needed reassurance that Bae was still alive and that one day, if he was just clever enough, that he would see him again. But it was soothing, listening to Belle look at it too. To hear that she saw the same things he did. 

"Oh, but that's odd," she said quietly and his eyes snapped open. 

"What? What is?" he demanded, wondering how she saw something he'd missed. 

"There." she picked up his hand and used his finger to guide his sight, to a cluster of stars near the horizon. 

"The Crossed Swords, yes," he said impatiently. "It means a large conflict, a big struggle." the gift he'd given his son. 

"Well, yes," Belle said slowly, "but with three stars atop them. That's the symbol of Avonlea. I didn't know it was a constellation as well." 

Belle had surprised him several times since coming to the Dark Castle, but none so great as now. He stared at her, then at the stars, but as always she was right. Three faint stars hung over the swords, mocking him. Something to do with Avonlea, right there all along. 

He gave Belle's hand a sudden squeeze, swallowing down an unexpected lump in his throat. To her endless credit, she said nothing and he briefly closed his eyes, unexpectedly thankful for her. Then he opened them and waved his hand again, showing her a lunar eclipse to hear her marvel at it. 

And she still held his hand.   
  
  


* * *

There was a benefit to winter. Belle, now well and truly trapped inside as blizzards roared around them, seemed to devote herself wholeheartedly towards learning how to cook. He would leave for a deal and arrive home to something stewing, making the whole castle smell wonderful. 

He lavished more praise on her than he wanted to, but it couldn't be helped. She did look so happy with her progress and always blushed when he told her so. And she made him her special pear dish for dessert, which was always a welcome surprise. 

The other welcome surprise was that even though she now had a significantly larger castle to clean, the whole place was gleaming. In comparison to her earlier efforts, it was almost as if she was using magic to do so. Somehow she had the time to clean and cook and still sit by the fires at night, reading quietly while he was at the wheel. 

He would never admit that the routine was comforting. But he didn't hate it either. 

"Belle," he called, appearing in the main hall, delighted at how well a deal had gone. He had a few side projects that he was undertaking other than getting back to Bae and this one was the best of all. Finding his mother, so that he could finally get his revenge. And his answers. "Belle, would you...." 

He stopped dead at the scene in front of him. Belle was splayed out on the rug by the fire, apparently quite deep into a nap. Her book lay out beside her, the pages gently fluttering as she inhaled and exhaled. But around her, the castle, or rather his magic, worked. The stones were being scrubbed, there were vegetables being peeled, and the dust was being wiped away. 

The castle had always had a mind of its own. He had accepted that. It was a magical artifact itself, imbued with so many different spells and curses and potions that he'd long ago realized that it was more than an extension of him. It was sentient in it's own way. 

And now, apparently, it liked Belle so much it was doing her chores for her. 

The idea was rather amusing. He looked around the walls of his home, feeling odd for having such kinship with a castle. And the food was much, much better. He knew that she still prepared the tea. And she still made him peaches. That counted for something. So what, if the castle did the rest. He'd given her a library. Of course she'd spend more time reading. 

He knelt down on the rug beside her, watching her sleep with a faint smile. She really was incredibly beautiful. Then he straightened up and took a few steps back so as to not alarm her before sending his magic to give her a gentle nudge back into consciousness. 

"Oh." her eyelids fluttered and she yawned, before her eyes opened entirely and she spotted him. Guilt instantly flooded her face and she scrambled to her feet. "Rumplestiltskin, I--"

"Was lazing about?" he asked her and she flushed, caught. "Yes, I rather noticed dearie. And yet, it appears, everything is getting done. Did someone teach you magic while I was out?" 

"It's the castle." Belle rarely lied or made excuses. It was something he appreciated about her. "I was wishing that dishes would go faster one day so that I could get back to my book and.... It just started washing them for me. Then, when you traded for that cow, I wished that I could make you proper roast without burning it and.... Well, the castle helped out." 

Well, he couldn't be that mad. The roast had been wonderful. 

"Helped out." he folded his arms and sneered down at her. "What good is a caretaker, dearie, who takes care of nothing?" 

"A caretaker who takes care of you," she retorted with ease, pushing herself to her feet and unaware of the turmoil she'd thrown him into. "I still do the tea. And I still do some cooking, just what's safest for me. You'd throw me out, but then you'd miss my witty company." 

"I would not," he snapped but without his usual relish. Belle shook her head but he saw her smirk. She went to prepare their tea and he sat down slowly. 

"How was dealing?" she asked him, setting the chipped cup down. He gave a rather non committal answer, his thoughts elsewhere. He had stolen her for other purposes. He'd seen her smarts, her bookishness, her sheer determination. He could bring her in. He could train her up. Not magic. No. She didn't have the darkness in her. But she was smart. He ought to make use of that. 

"What do you plan to do now?" he asked her with narrowed eyes. Belle blinked, taken off balance by the shift. 

"Now what?" 

"Now that the castle does the work for you!"

"Oh." she relaxed. "Well, I still have chores. And I'm organizing the library. Plus, there is something that I'm really dying to do." her eyes sparkled. 

"What's that?" he questioned slowly and she looked towards the windows. 

"I would love to have a picnic outside." a wistful expression crossed her face. "And to see the outer walls. If you'd come with me, I could see how the forest must look in all this snow." 

What a fool she made of him. 

"I don't have time for picnics, dearie," he snarled and she just sipped her tea. "I am the Dark One!" 

"And you told me that there was going to be yet another blizzard tonight," she reasoned calmly. "I doubt you'll be going anywhere." 

He stared at her in astonishment. Was he still a monster? Was he still the fearsome sorcerer? Had he lost all the ability to scare and intimidate her? Apparently. But all she wanted was to see a bit of the world, the tiny little corner he hid her away in. 

He heaved a great sigh and snapped his fingers. 

Belle now stood on top of the wall circling the castle, gasping at the cold. He'd layered her in a few sweaters, her cloak, thick socks, and her heaviest boots, but it was still chilly out. The air was brittle with the promise of a storm to come. But Belle didn't care; her eyes were wide with amazement. 

The forest did look beautiful, all the branches coated in snow. The slate grey sky made the mountains stand out all the more and it was easy to follow the dips and curves of nature. Belle hiked up her skirts and went charging down the wall, making him chase behind her for fear she'd hit ice and slip over the edge. 

Belle marveled at every little thing. When a cardinal wheeled over the forest, she gasped and grabbed his arm. When the sun poked out from behind the cloud and the world burst into a dazzling show of white, she gave him a squeeze. And when he conjured a single white rose from the garden below and presented it to her on a whim, she ducked her head to hide both a smile and tears. 

She was, as always, incredibly endearing. And it was for this reason, and this reason only that when they finally walked down from the walls, she was greeted by a winter picnic, or a blanket atop the snow with simple sandwiches and some spiced cider, magic keeping the cold at bay. Belle sank down and gave him a grateful smile. 

"Thank you," she said softly, splitting an apple for them and offering him the other half. He took it slowly, looking out as the first flakes of snow began to drift down, melting in the warm air above them. "Thank you, for everything you do for me, Rumplestiltskin." 

He'd stolen her for a reason. And the reason was not picnics and peaches. 

If she wasn't going to clean his castle, she'd earn her keep in another way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy 2021!! i can't wait to share the second half of this story with you all; the next chapter will mark a turning point of sorts. 
> 
> thank you for reading!


	10. a soul is a wish, a kiss, and a cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have a lot of notes for this chapter, just that canon had such a chance to be epic aaaaaaaand.....
> 
> anyways ENJOY

Belle was learning to be at ease whenever her master left the castle. At first, she had fretted and worried. She was so convinced something would go wrong or something awful would happen or he’d never come back, but she’d learned to have faith in him. Now, when he left, she was reassured that he’d both come back and keep her safe. And having three days to explore the castle without him was both lonely and fun. She’d learned to work the planetarium all by herself! 

But he had returned; she heard the slam of the front door and the click of the lock. She looked up at the sound of him entering the main hall with a smile. "Rumplestiltskin, you're back. I did the wash, and I polished the silver like you asked. I did it, not the castle.” it seemed an important distinction to make, that she’d taken his teasing instructions to heart. 

“Good.” he seemed especially haggard, carrying a basket. He’d been on edge for a few weeks now. Belle thought that it was because her birthday was soon approaching or that he was getting spring fever or something else, but he didn’t even spare her a smirk like he normally would’ve. "Now you can take care of this.” he set the basket on the table and went right for the scrolls on the opposite wall, not even sparing her a glance. Belle peeked in it curiously and froze, a cry escaping her lips. 

She was used to monsters and magic with her strange master. She was accustomed to strange sights and apparitions, to odd noises and bangs. Whatever she had imagined was going to be in this basket, the last thing she might have thought would be a tiny form, slumbering on, oblivious to her mute terror. 

“A baby? But where.... Where did it come from?” she thought absurdly of the first trick he’d pulled on her - skinning children for their pelts. She firmly pushed that vision from her mind as she demanded, "where are its parents?" 

"They no longer matter. The bairn is mine now.” the worst was that he wouldn’t even look at her; he seemed intent on finding a certain scroll. The child was beginning to whimper at the sound of their raised voices, so Belle scooped him up. He certainly looked to be whole, with chubby cheeks and a pink flush. He was clothed in simple garb, evidently not a child of royals. Belle tried to soothe him, looking up at Rumplestiltskin in horror.

“Yours?” for half a second, she absurdly thought about what that meant and if some woman had born him a child, before she realized what was the likely case and pushed away her strange feelings of anger towards the idea. “What, you.... You stole him?” 

"Yes. Scandalous, isn't it?” he still wouldn’t look at her. She wished he would. She would have made him, but the child in her arms was now wailing, so she turned her attention there, remembering how a baby liked to be soothed. Ideally, by their mother. And that wasn’t an option here.

"Shh. It's alright. Shh. Oh, shh,” she whispered, before glaring at Rumplestiltskin’s back. "What kind of beast steals a child from its parents?” she refused to think of herself. She’d never been so angry with him before. He let her see the good in him. Now that? Such cruelty she could hardly fathom. The words came out harsher than she would’ve liked. "What happened to you that made you like this?” 

It was probably a question too far, she realized. She had never once asked him about the past. She knew it had to be a long life, since he’d been the Dark One for as long as anyone could remember. But even sorcerers were children once and he had to have a past, a childhood, a history. She braced herself for a fit of rage, but for the first since she’d met him, he did not react beyond the rigid set of his shoulders. 

"You'd do best to stop asking so many questions,” he said darkly, before grasping a scroll and pulling it free. "Ah, there it is. Now, I have work to do. I'm not to be disturbed.” he walked past her and Belle followed him, still clutching the baby tightly and hissing like an angry goose at his back.

"Well, at least tell me his name so I can soothe him. Or did you not even bother to find out?” she’d never been so mad at him. For the first time, she wanted to strike him. Anything to make him stop - anything to make him look at her! 

"Why would I? A name's a special thing.” he turned abruptly and looked down at her. Belle’s grip tightened subconsciously on the child in her arms. He looked wilder than she’d ever remembered seeing, his clothes somehow forming an even tight shell around him that usual. He was not the same person who had left the castle this morning. It was like he was a moment away from falling apart and that scared her. "You don't waste it on something you've no intention of becoming…. Attached to."

"What do you mean?” Belle asked him hollowly. She hadn’t expected that he was going to raise a baby in the Dark Castle, but this made it seem like the child wouldn’t even be here for much longer. "What do you plan on doing with this child?” 

For a moment, she almost believed he’d tell her. His strange green-golden eyes looked at her, searching her face. She was sure he noted the way she held a child with ease. A princess she might have been, but Belle was not above playing nanny when she needed to. He swallowed hard and then raised a threatening finger.

"I shall be back at sundown. Don't think about trying to hide it. I'll find out,” he threatened and Belle watched in silent shock as he walked out. 

“Bastard,” she muttered, hardly caring if he heard. Then she turned to the baby, frowning. First she had to calm him down and protect him. Then she could curse her master until she was blue in the face. “Yes, it’s going to be alright. I promise. I will sort you out, right as rain. Just…. Hang on.” 

She brought both baby and basket to the rug by the fire where they would stay warm. There were diapers in the basket, so Belle decided to start there. Her new charge was a little boy, who did need a change. Belle completed it and wrapped him back up tightly, then found that a bottle was waiting for her. Thankful that the castle knew a child’s needs even when it’s master did not, she drew him into her arms to feed him. 

She’d always been a natural with children. She’d snuck off to visit the nursery when she was young, wistful for a young sibling. Then the visits continued, until she could change a child with one hand and soothe another child with the other. She’d always thought she’d have a large family, since that was what was her duty as a royal wife, but she’d never imagined this. Already, she felt him grabbing tightly to a piece of her heart. 

No. She shut that out. Children would never happen for her. She lived at the Dark Castle and served Rumplestiltskin. She had made a deal and her future had been the payment. No children for her, ever. She had to be alright with that. She had to be. 

“Alright,” she whispered, when he was eating, still fussing around the bottle. “You’re going to eat and then we’re going to read. Reading always helps me when I’m nervous.” and maybe there would be something in there to illuminate or stop whatever plan Rumplestiltskin had for the baby. 

She glanced at the window. The sun hung midway through the sky. So she didn’t have long. But she had to do something. Rumplestiltskin could be reasoned with when he was in the mood, she just had to figure out how to do so. She wouldn’t let him hurt any sort of human, but especially not a child, an innocent little baby. She just had to figure out what use he had for the little one and then how she could replace it.

Once he was done eating, Belle settled him on her shoulder and made for the library. There would be something in there that was appropriate for a child. She burped him as she walked and by the time they’d made it to the top of the tower, he had burped three times and seemed a bit more settled. Belle placed him in the crook of her arm and went to look for a children’s book, but then stopped in her tracks. 

There, sitting beside her chair like she’d left it, was her favorite book. Her Handsome Hero. Tears pricked her eyes as she recalled the soft voice of her mother, stroking her hair and reading to her. She had no idea where it had come from, but she didn’t care. She sank down, shifting him to one arm and picking up the book with the other hand. The tears made it hard to read, but with a trembling voice, she started, eventually losing herself in the story as she recalled the way her mother had read it to her. 

_“—but Gideon was unafraid. He drew his sword and turned to face the evil Sorcerer, ready to save the people he loved.”_

The baby cooed, calmed and now waved fat fists. Belle smiled at him, her voice a gentle coo. "You really like this, don't you? So did I, when I was little. This is the first book that my mother ever read to me. I used to tell her that when I grew up, I was going to be a strong, brave hero, just like Gideon in the book. Maybe you could grow up to be like him someday. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?” she stroked his soft cheeks. "Of course, you'll only get the chance to if we can figure out what Rumplestiltskin is planning before the sun goes down and he takes you away, which, now that I've calmed you down, maybe we can do that.” 

She only had a few hours. She settled her companion back into his basket and then snuck back to the main hall, mind whirling. Her first stop was to check the doors. She breathed a sigh of relief. So Rumplestiltskin was gone and had locked her back in. That was a good thing for the next part of her plan. Normally, Belle would never chance this. It would be far too risky for just anything but this was a baby. A baby who had his whole life in front of him. No matter what, he did not deserve to be a pawn in whatever Rumplestiltskin’s plan was. 

Very, very carefully, she turned to the door opposite the one that took her to her library. Rumplestiltskin had told her, long ago, that if she ever really needed it, his study would be made available to her. This probably wasn’t the circumstance he was thinking of, but she didn’t have time to think about that. She pressed her fingers to the stone and then leaned her head against the cool, rough surface. 

“Please,” she whispered to the castle. “Please, please, please….”

Then she reached for the door, a surge of happiness racing through her when she found it open. She gathered up the child and hurried up the stairs, the exact same setup as her library. At the top, the tower opened into the large, circular room, but this was not just lined with books. It was covered in vials and strange items, littered with scraps of papers and quills. Belle felt the tug of curiosity but she had more important things to focus on, namely the scroll on the desk that Rumplestiltskin had been looking for earlier. 

Belle eagerly snatched it up, scanning it. The language was odd, but not unfamiliar and Belle reached for a quill and paper to translate, rocking the baby with the other hand. It was rather difficult with how old the scroll was, but Belle had faced more difficult tasks in her old life. She didn’t notice as the sun slipped deeper past the horizon, until finally she was done. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at the baby.

"Alright. This is fairy language,” she explained to him, thinking aloud. "It's an incantation for someone called.... The Black Fairy. But what would Rumplestiltskin want from her, and what does that have to do with why he took you?” 

The baby’s cry should’ve been the first warning that something was wrong. But somehow, she was still surprised.

"That's for me to know….” Belle gasped and spun on the spot, seeing that Rumplestiltskin had been sitting in his chair, watching her all along. "And for you to never find out."

“No.” she went to shield the baby again, not sure which was stronger, her fear or her anger towards him. He had tricked her, yet again. He knew her curious nature and her determination to do the right thing. He had _tricked_ her. The knowledge made her furious. "You knew I was going to do this."

"Not only did I know, I was planning on it. You really think I would let you enter my study by accident?” he rose, coming to pluck the scroll from her numb hands. "I don't speak fairy. But why do I need to when I have you?” the way he said it was almost with admiration, but Belle felt no satisfaction in her success. 

"No. I will not let you hurt this baby,” she insisted and he looked at her with a pitying expression. Then his fingers snapped and Belle was left grasping at air, the child now in Rumplestiltskin’s grip.

How she hated magic!

"The bairn is no longer your concern,” he said it like this was simply business, like they were trading eggs for wool. “I think you should stay here for a while. Don't want you getting any ideas about trying to stop me.” with nothing more than a glance at her, he went for the door and Belle tried to race after him. It was like she was swimming through honey, watching him leave while she was still so far away. 

“No!” she cried, as the large wooden door clanged shut behind him. All of the sudden she was able to rush forward and Belle hit it hard, smacking it with an open palm. “Rumplestiltskin! Rumplestiltskin! You have to let me out, you have to! You’re a good man, deep down!” 

But wherever Rumplestiltskin was, it wasn’t here. She beat the door for a bit longer but once her hands went numb, she gave up entirely. She turned, looking around at the study. She wanted to inspect it. She did. But nothing in it held any draw for her now, not when she felt such abject misery at what had happened. She wanted the child to be safe. And she wanted Rumplestiltskin to make a better choice. 

Once the sun set, she sighed and leaned her head against the door. But she had to try. No matter how hard it was, she wanted to know that at the end of all of this, she’d done her best. She’d done everything to save the baby and Rumplestiltskin. So she went back to the door and raised a fist, unsure if she was addressing the castle itself or Rumplestiltskin or something else entirely. 

"Hello? Hello? Is someone out there? Please, I.... I need help!” she listened carefully. Was that something there? Or was she just imagining it? But then, the window burst open and a flash of blue light filled it. Belle ducked, covering her head then raised it carefully. "Hello? I.... Hello?” she asked tentatively then gasped when from the light emerged a short woman with shimmering azure wings and a wand. "You're a…. A fairy,” Belle realized with some awe. 

"I'm Blue. And by the looks of things, you're another soul held captive by the Dark One.” the fairy wasted no time in giving her a sympathetic glance and Belle struggled not to defend, yet again, the arrangement she and Rumplestiltskin had despite her anger with him. That wasn’t important right now. 

"Yes and I need you to get me out of here. Rumplestiltskin has a child who's in great danger,” she tried to explain, her anxiety rising.

"I know. That's why I'm here,” the fairy stated. "I came as soon as I sensed the fairy incantations being read. We have to stop him before he can use it to summon the Black Fairy."

"Why? I thought that all fairies were good.” Belle’s head was spinning. What sort of dark thing was Rumplestiltskin planning with the Black Fairy and the baby? He had warned her that he was dark and irredeemable, but surely even this was beyond him? Whatever it was, she had to stop it.

"Well, she used to be good once." the fairy looked highly uncomfortable.

"What happened?” she demanded, trying to get the facts. She needed knowledge. She needed more knowledge. 

"No one knows exactly,” the fairy sighed, her small shoulders slumping. "Just that her heart blackened and she stopped defending the children that she was meant to protect. She started stealing them instead. Which means that that child is in grave danger. Rumplestiltskin is trying to use it to lure her."

"But why? What could possibly be so important that he'd want from her?” Belle had lived with him for some time now and she didn't pretend to always know his motivations. Yet the fact that he was willing to sacrifice a child didn't sit well with her. There had to be something that she was missing. Something drove him. She just had to figure out what it was. 

"I wish I knew. But, right now, we just need to get you free so that you can save that child.” Blue took her hands; Belle knew that she was going to magic her away but she hadn’t a clue why - or where.

"What? Me? But I.... I don't have magic,” she reminded her in alarm. The blue fairy gave her a sad little smile. 

"Well, that's precisely why it has to be you. My magic can't save him, but they won’t see you coming. Hurry, I’ll send you to them, but there's not much time.” 

There was nothing else to do. Belle needed to be a hero. She took a deep breath and raised her chin. She could do this. She could do this. 

"Wish me luck. I'm going to need it,” she muttered, and then the magic took her away. 

It dropped her in a small clearing in the woods. She exhaled a trembling breath that turned the air briefly white in front of her; Blue apparently didn't think to give her a cloak like Rumplestiltskin always did and the nights were still cold. She wrapped her arms around herself as she eased forward, trying to get a good look at what was happening. 

Rumplestiltskin stood in the clearing, the baby in front of him and the scroll in one hand. Every line in his body radiated tension and Belle had not seen his face so thunderous since she'd been kidnapped. She was trying to figure out how to approach him when his voice suddenly boomed out, making her jump. 

"Let the night sky tremble, as the Dark Star shall fall. Awake, Black Fairy, and heed my call." the baby gave a wail but Belle was focused on the speck of black that appeared to be falling from the sky, down towards them in the clearing. Then, just as Blue had, a woman appeared, but this one was tall and dressed in black. She carried herself regally, like a queen might, and she smiled as she walked for the baby. Belle made to start forward and stop her, but then Rumplestiltskin threw a dark, shiny liquid over the fairy and she froze. "I'm afraid I can't let you get ahold of that baby. Not yet, anyway," Rumplestiltskin declared with none of his usual mockery and flourishes. 

Somehow, that served to make Belle even more nervous. 

"Who dares summon me?" the fairy demanded imperviously and Rumplestiltskin's lips drew up in a sneer as he gave the bottle a little shake. 

"Squid ink. Nasty stuff," he revealed and the fairy's face showed nothing but contempt. 

"Rumplestiltskin."

"So you know who I am," he stated and Belle had lived with him for months now. She knew the tone of his voice, she knew the subtle ways in which it shifted. And it sounded like he was almost.... Hopeful? 

"Oh, who hasn't heard of the Dark One?" the fairy asked dismissively, her focus now back on the child. "And if you've heard of me, you know that squid ink won't hold me long."

"Oh, I know. That's why.... I have this." Rumplestiltskin lunged forward, holding a dagger and Belle took her chance while they were both distracted. She slipped between the trees and darted forward to snatch the baby up from the basket, holding him close. 

"And how exactly do you plan on using that?" the fairy seemed wary now and Belle took a few steps back, torn between trying to keep the child safe and trying to convince Rumplestiltskin that he didn't need to kill anyone. 

"Well, that all depends on how you answer one simple question. You steal babies. Steal them from their mothers' arms," he growled. "So, why, of all the babies, in all of the realms, why did you abandon the one child who was actually yours?"

Belle about dropped the child. She was sure her shock was only second to the fairy's, who was horrified, searching Rumplestiltskin's face. Worse still was the expression he wore. His lips were still curled up in malice, but eyes that somehow seemed to be so much younger, filled with such hurt. 

This? This was his mother?

"No. No. It can't be," the fairy breathed.

"Oh, I'm afraid it can be.... Mother," he hissed, moving the dagger to her neck. "That's right. Rumplestiltskin is your son. Of course, you would know that.... Had you bothered to even give me a name. And now you are gonna answer my question.” terrible pain flashed over his face, though his voice was the same low, dangerous hiss it'd be all night. “Why did you abandon me?" 

Belle's heart ached for him. She'd never seen such pain before. He looked almost desperate and there was a part of her that understood. How long he must've gone, wanting these answers. And how lonely he must've been, raised without a mother. And to think she had asked him what had made him this way. Well, now she knew. 

"Funny that the Dark One should ask such a thing." the fairy laughed directly at him and Belle saw the way it hurt him. "Sometimes you have to choose power over love. Time's up." the ink had clearly worn off; the fairy managed to move away from him. "No more answers for you today. Guess you'll just have to keep on wondering, son!" with another laugh, she disappeared once again, leaving them alone in the clearing. 

Belle held herself very still for a moment. This was uncharted territory. She'd calmed him down after a well intentioned thief by showing him reason. She'd calmed him down after a bad deal with peaches and a good book. She'd calmed him down from lots of different moods with her quick wit and dry humor. 

But what did one use in the face of mockery and abandonment from the one person who was always supposed to love you? 

She approached him, carefully. No matter what, no matter how painful this was, she could not justify him ruining another child's life. So she reached for him, aiming for his shoulder or arm, but then he stumbled towards her and her hand found his cheek. He looked so hurt, so childlike, that her heart felt like it was going to bleed for him. She found herself wishing that she could take his pain away. 

"I understand now. I mean, you didn't deserve what she did," she whispered, a thumb stroking over the smooth skin there. She had no idea if she was going too far, but she didn’t care. He needed the comfort, willingly or not. "You didn't deserve to be treated that way. She shouldn't have left you. But sacrificing the life of an innocent child is not the answer. No matter how much pain you're in."

"No one knows anything about my pain," he said, quite coldly. But he was still there, letting her comfort him. He hadn't pushed her away or sent her home or wrenched the baby from her arms. So she took some faith in that. 

"I know," she replied as tenderly as she could, watching him stand so still to accept her touch. "And as many times as I can say it, it's never going to be enough. But let's take this little one back to where he belongs and we can go home."

"You smell like a fairy," he accused her and she glanced down at herself, then remembered her place. She would explain herself and take ownership of her actions. She would not let him walk all over her. 

"I did what I had to do to keep you from making the wrong decision. And I still want you to make the right one, now." she gave him as stern a look as she dared. 

For a long second, he didn't seem to even hear her. Then, when he finally raised his eyes, it was to look deep within hers. Belle swayed on her feet, unsteady with the intensity of his gaze. It was rather like seeing through all of space and time, into a very deep well of knowledge and suffering and power. For perhaps the first time, it really occurred to her just how different and magical he was, how old he was and how much he had seen.

She hadn't gotten her balance back when he magicked them away. 

They were outside a small farm. Belle, now warmed by her cloak, still held the child in her arms but Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be found. That didn't surprise her in the slightest, given the sort of night he'd had. Trying to get her balance back, she picked up her skirts and headed towards the little house before he could change her mind and do something else nefarious with the child. 

"Who are--" the man was first out of the house, drawn by the sound of her approach, but his face shifted from suspicion to unrestrained joy when he saw the fussing bundle in her arms. "Phillip! It's Phillip!" 

At his cry, a small woman peered out, then came running for Belle as well. The pair hit her at the same time, both crying. Belle gladly handed off the child, smiling and deflecting their questions about who she was and how she'd gotten their son, nodding politely when they insisted that they hadn't understood the terms of the deal, that they'd been tricked by a wicked man. Did no one ever ask his terms, all his terms? 

She watched them retreat inside with their son and smiled, folding her hands in front of her, shoulders slumping with relief that she’d been able to give the baby back safely. It had been a long day and she was exhausted by the events of it. And she had someone else to attend to, whether he wanted her to do so or not. So she took a few steps across the yard, letting instinct take her. 

He'd been watching from nearby the barn, his expression closed off and unreadable. He stayed still as Belle approached and she wanted to tell him that he'd done the right thing. That he was a good man. That she understood him. That she'd keep his secrets. That she wanted to know him better. 

But none of that seemed appropriate. So she simply took his arm and gave it a squeeze, letting his magic take them home. 

He collapsed in the chair by the fire the second they were back and Belle hustled to get him tea. Her mother had always said that things never seemed so bad after tea and it was a fundamental belief of Belle's as well. She knelt beside him and presented him with the chipped cup. He took it with unseeing eyes. 

"I tricked you," he remarked as she poured a cup for herself. He didn’t seem to really even register that she was there; it was like he was talking to empty air. "The fairy scroll." 

"Yes, you don't read fairy. I could now imagine why." the gap in his knowledge had seemed strange, but in retrospect, she could see why he'd willfully avoid such a thing. Belle sat on the floor in front of him with her own cup of tea, rather worried about what he’d do to himself if she left him alone. She wasn’t sure if he’d hurt someone else or himself, but she didn't intend to see if he did. 

"Aren't you angry with me?" he said it with such childlike fear, turning his eyes to her for the first time. Belle took a moment to think, idly running a finger along the edge of her cup. Yes, she was angry that he'd tricked her, locked her into a room, and had been terrible. But he'd also let her see something that she knew she was the only soul alive to witness. So she sighed as she set aside her tea and reached to touch his knee. 

"Did you know?" she asked instead, a question that had been forming in her mind since he'd locked her in the study. "When my father asked for help, when you came to make a deal, you could've had anything. We would have emptied our coffers for you to save us. But you traded.... For me. Did you know I could read fairy?" 

She wasn't sure what she wanted the answer to be. Saying no meant that this was all a fluke. But saying yes meant some prior knowledge of her. And somehow, the idea made a chill go down her spine. She watched carefully as he leaned forward, his face like it had been cut from marble, his eyes unreadable pools. She leaned forward like something was tugged them together, nearing him, until -- 

She was in her room, alone, swaying on her feet from the magic. With a huff, she threw herself onto the bed and kicked her feet, only very nearly resisting the urge to scream into a pillow. Oh, what a stubborn man! How could he be so difficult? She deserved answers too. Then, after a second, she sat up, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She'd give him time. Yes. Plenty of time. For him to think, for her to think, for them both to figure some things out.

But she'd get her answers in the end. 

  
  
  


* * *

She didn't see him for a few days, then a few more. Gradually, it stretched into a week then several. She celebrated her birthday alone, with a tiny cake and a candle that she'd found tucked away. She would've worried that he was mad at her or something similar, but she knew it wasn't that. 

He was still in the castle. And she still could go anywhere, including the outer walls to watch as spring bloomed everywhere, then eased into summer. He was just avoiding her or otherwise hiding. He didn't want to face her with the whole 'mother' thing. And she didn't blame him, not really. He was a secretive person who’d been forced to show her something deeply personal of himself. 

She was just so lonely. 

It was a glorious early summer day when she woke up to something in her hand that she had not fallen asleep with. She blinked, clearing the sleep from her eyes when she realized that it was the gold thread he wove. She got up, seeing that it trailed from a source outside her bedroom, and so she followed it.

Down the stairs. Through the foyer. Out onto the grounds. And all the way to the stables, when it ended looped around the neck of a large horse, soft and tawny with big brown eyes. Belle gasped, trying to understand what was going on when she realized that the stall had a nameplate. 

**'Phillip'**

Smiling, she reached inside and ran a hand over Phillip's nose. He was perfect and clearly an olive branch of some sort. Belle leaned up on her tippy-toes to give the horse a kiss, whispering to him, 

"I'll accept you as my gift. But I'm still getting my answers."

Then she went to get herself some tack. She meant to ride. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews? reviews for the cold minnesotan in the dregs of a January winter?? 
> 
> *rattles tin*


	11. should the blood on my hands ever be yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys are the whole reason this story goes round. thank you a million!

"Lora-lay-lo, lara-lay-lie, lay-lo, lay-lo, lie-lie," Belle hummed as she swept. The song, the gentle repetitive sounds, washed over him like a physical balm. Belle wasn’t the greatest singer, but he enjoyed the way she hummed under her breath. He was sitting by the fire, reading from an ancient book, listening to her move about the main hall. 

He'd only made himself visible to her a week or so ago. She'd handled his sudden reappearance as well as she possibly could - a gasp, a hand to the heart, and then an evident struggle to calmly greet him and ask if he'd like some tea and scones. She'd been leaving the chipped cup where he could find it with tea in it daily, but this time they sat down at the table together. 

She hadn't asked him about his mother. She hadn’t even mentioned it. His plucky maid, the one he thought he knew so well, never would've stopped until she got answers. But since their ill-fated adventure, a change had come over Belle. It was as though she'd grown up overnight, becoming quieter, more thoughtful. 

He'd given her the horse as an attempt to smooth things over, testing the waters with a gift. Her delight had been more than evident; she spent every moment she could outside, racing down the path along the walls. He knew she longed for more, but he couldn't bring himself to grant that to her. At least, not yet. 

His confrontation with his mother hadn't gone at all how he expected. He had thought it would go poorly. He hadn't expected it to be such a disaster. And there was no mistaking it. It had been an absolute disaster. He hadn’t gotten any of his answers. And Belle had been there, witness to his darkest and most foul. What had he been thinking? 

Not of the interference of fairies, that was for sure. It still made him gnash his teeth to think of that blue monstrosity in his home, near his Belle, working her simpering magic. But he should've known that his soft and kind-hearted maid, with four children hovering near her in the stars, would do just about anything to save such an innocent soul. But it wasn't just the bairn she'd wanted to save. 

She wanted to stop him from hurting himself as well. 

That was what had driven him into hiding. The memory of her hand on his cheek, her pleading with him. To make the right decision. To go home, with her, like this was a place where they both belonged. Like he was deserving of her, of this love and attention and affection. Of her struggle to understand him. He couldn't bear the softness of her face, the tenderness as she stroked his cheek. 

No. 

He was violence and rage and magic and madness and danger. He was stained with centuries of bad deeds, of war and monsters. He was pain. He was blood. He was death. 

How could he not destroy her as well? 

But Belle had still spoken to him, even when she had no clue if he was listening. She told him what she did that day or amusing little stories that she had to have concotted on the spot. And sometimes, when she was sitting in her chair and reading by the fire, her eyes would flicker to where he sat like she could see. 

Oh, she was trouble. 

"Dearie," he said quietly and Belle paused, her humming drifting off as she looked at him. A smile crossed her face, shy and slow. They still hadn't been talking much. 

"Was I singing too loud?" she asked, setting the broom aside. 

"Not at all." the lullaby, whatever it was, was pleasant. He wondered if she knew it from her girlhood. She came to his side easily, pausing when he slowly offered her the book he’d been reading. 

"What's this?" her eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she sat down at his feet, thumbing through the pages. 

"I'd like you to translate it," he revealed quietly and Belle looked up at him sharply. But this time there was no child in danger, no unseemly tricks. With a narrowed, suspicious gaze, Belle went to get herself a quill and paper, coming back to sit a ways away from him. He watched as she started to translate it, first slowly then losing herself in the task, her shoulders relaxing and her face smoothing out in concentration. 

The firelight caught her auburn hair and made it shine. Her cheeks were tinged pink, from an afternoon in the sun for a moment too long. Her blue eyes, sparkling with the challenge, darted back and forth across the page. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips and she occasionally would bite her lower lip with such intense concentration. All of it made his heart tug, despite every intention not to.

_Beauty._

"Alright," she announced, startling him out of his ruminations on her loveliness and what it meant for him. "I think I have the gist of it." 

"Thank you." he held his hand out for the translation but Belle held it out of reach, her blue eyes fixed on his. 

"Tell me what it's for." her tone was even, unbothered. For a second he thought to just take it from her by force. But that was not how he wanted this to go. So he sat back and observed her. Belle waited for him to speak, still holding the paper. 

"Curiosity," he declared levelly and Belle's mouth twitched but the paper remained in her possession. 

"No, the real reason." 

So clever, she was. 

"Why don't you tell me what it might be." he leaned back, steepling his fingers. Belle blinked, clearly taken aback. Then she glanced at the paper again, reading it, and he could almost see her quick thinking. 

"It’s a spell to keep something hidden by magic. Someone needs it and you're going to trade for it," she said slowly, eyes darting over the page. "Someone that needs to - or wants to - keep something well hidden. You're not using it for yourself. You know how to do magic for that and you have an entire castle to hide things in. So someone else must want it.” she lifted her gaze to him, brow furrowed ever so quizzically. “So my question now is.... What are you going to get in exchange for it?" 

He let her see the open admiration on his face. For a second, she was still guarded, still apprehensive. But then, when he didn't mock her, a smile spread across her face and she glanced down at the translation with a little hint of pride before standing and handing over the paper. 

"Belle," he said softly and she looked up at him. He wished he could touch her but he didn't dare. For one, why would she want the touch of something like him? And for another, he feared if he touched her now, he’d never be able to bring himself to stop. "I.... I knew." 

"I thought as much." she didn't seem angry. If anything, it was almost like she was amused and perhaps a little relieved. "And how did you know that I could read fairy language and translate it for you?" 

"Questions, questions, questions." he folded up the translation and tucked it away, rising. That was not a question he’d be answering today, not when it would mean revealing to her just how long he’d been watching and waiting for her. Then he offered Belle his arm. "Come along, dearie." 

"Where are we...." Belle trailed off when she realized that they were heading towards his study. She was silent as they climbed the stairs. He was acutely aware that there were now only two places that he and the castle kept hidden from her. But he had a purpose for her and that meant letting her in, just a little more. 

"You were not born to be a caretaker," he muttered, bringing her into the study. "You have talents, untapped. I'd.... Like to use them." 

"Use them how?" she questioned skeptically and he hid a smile, standing back so that she’d feel free to explore the space on her own terms. 

"You're a smart girl. You'll figure it out." 

"I'm not going to help you if you intend to hurt anyone," she warned him, but her eyes were already straying to the books and scrolls he housed here, to all the different items that he kept up here to study or to make use of. 

"And you never would." as though he'd let her get close to any sort of danger. He trusted her, yes, but not so much so that he’d let her see his true purpose. She was yet another tool, a means to the end. Or so he kept reminding himself. 

"So." she leaned against the edge of the table and he struggled not to look at how it drew the waist of her dress tighter. "I'll what, translate? Do research? Report back to you with my findings?" 

"Precisely." he appreciated how quickly she caught on and how rarely he had to explain things to her. It was all very refreshing. 

"Oh." she had apparently not been expecting a straightforward answer and so she looked at him for a long moment, fingers tapping the edge of a table absentmindedly. "What am I to be looking for then?" 

"You can start here." he had a rather large backlog of things related to fairies that he couldn't bring himself to touch. Especially not now. He conjured and placed them in front of Belle. She gave a little gasp at the sheer amount. 

"Is that all?" she asked dryly and he looked around at the rest of the study, thinking that he had enough in here to keep her busy until she was old and grey. 

"For now," he said critically and left her to it. 

For a while, it seemed that she might defy him. But then, like night turned to day, Belle turned to her task and warmed up to it. By the end of the third day, she'd translated several scrolls for him. By the end of the week, an entire history volume. Most of it was nonsense, but there were a few little pieces of gold in there. He took the knowledge greedily, delighted that she’d made such short work of things.

It also gave him an excuse to work side by side with her in the evenings, whenever he wasn't dealing. Now, if she wasn’t in her library, she was beside him in the study, at her own little workstation she’d commandeered. She'd turn to him and ask him a question here or there, sometimes with one that stumped him. It always made him smile. 

"And when was the Nine Decades war?" she asked him idly, thumbing through a book one evening, the fiery sunset streaming through the tower’s windows. 

"I cannot be sure, but I'd wager it lasted nine decades," he replied idly, busy making a very delicate potion. He heard Belle snigger behind him before she moved to stand across from him, the book forgotten at her side. 

"What is it you're doing?" she asked him, setting aside the book and bending slightly to inspect his handiwork. 

"Never you mind," he ordered but Belle stayed where she was, watching as he carefully added a puff of white smoke to the vial. 

"Did you know, before?" she questioned. 

"Know what?" he really couldn't be mucking this up. He should tell her to go but he couldn't stop himself from talking to her. It was a particularly irksome reflex and the more time he spent with her, the less control he seemed to have over it. 

"Magic. Before.... You were the Dark One." 

He felt his hands still, an automatic response to prevent himself from doing something terribly stupid like throwing the entire potion against the wall and wasting what had been, up until now, a very productive afternoon. Her questions were the very reason why he'd decided to take her away. Her need for knowledge, her dogged determination to always be learning. But when it was turned on him, it was decidedly less pleasant. 

"Who's to say I wasn't born this way," he pointed out lowly, darkly. As always, his wind wheeled to the darkest and worst possibilities. She was trying to figure out a way to destroy him. She was looking for any hint of weakness, any chance to find a chink in his armor and worm herself in until she could cause the greatest amount of harm. Why else would she ask anything of him? Why else would she care, if not for his downfall?

"You know you weren't. And.... You know that I know the same." Belle's tone was soft and he silently cursed himself. She knew him. Of course she knew him. She knew everything, because he let her see. 

"No," he said hollowly, some of the rage going out of him. His memories, long as they were, still could hurt him. He thought of the little boy, desperate for a family and a home and someone who loved him, who would stay with him. Who didn’t even know what magic was, until it took everything from him. "No, I didn't know." 

"Oh." like a feather on the breeze, Belle floated away from him. He slowly opened his eyes, willing his hands to move again. He didn't have much time left if he wanted to make this particular potion correctly. 

He didn't look at Belle again, where she was sitting in her chair with her books and her translations and her all knowing, too-blue eyes. 

* * *

  
  
  


"Rumplestiltskin!" Belle called out, the door banging shut loudly behind her. "I've found it! An unbroken robin's egg. Just like you asked." 

"Did you now?" he turned from his work to watch as she breezed into the study, smelling like summer and sunshine. She had the requested item cupped safely in her hands and she presented it to him with an attempt at one of his more dramatic flourishes, giggling when she almost fell over. 

"Will it work?" she asked him as he took it carefully, trying not to show his amusement with her. She was such a cheerful thing and brightened the entire space around her, but he wouldn’t have her knowing that. He inspected the egg carefully. 

"It'll do," he said finally and she rolled her eyes at him. 

"I climbed to the top of the tallest tree, in the highest branches," she informed him, then lifted her skirts slightly. "Look, I scratched myself on the way down." 

"Yes." he could clearly see the long angry red line running from her calf up the back of her thigh. He wasn't sure if he was able to blush as the Dark One, but if he could, this would surely do it. "Would you like the scar for your troubles, dearie, or shall I fix it?" 

"I'll keep it, thank you." Belle dropped her skirt again and then came alongside him, curious. He noticed that she had no problems with brushing up against him; in fact she did it quite often. Yet somehow, every time she did, he still looked down at her with surprise and alarm. "What will you do now?"

"Magic," he told her, like it was obvious. She gave him a tiny swat on the shoulder, the way a fly might swat a lion. 

"Yes, but how? How does it work?" she questioned him eagerly and he sighed. There were always flaws in a plan, no matter how well thought out they were. And evidently, this was it. Belle was curious to a fault. 

"It's...." how did he explain this to her? How could he explain such a wide and vast topic? But if anyone could understand it, it would be his clever maid. "It's will. And focus. And.... Power. You can gather the things needed, things that will channel and dilute it, but the core of it comes from you." 

"So can anyone have magic?" she was close enough he could feel the heat that radiated off of her. 

"Why?" he hissed, ugly fear raising it’s head. "Do you want it so that you can try to defeat me, dearie?" 

"You'd never teach me," she retorted calmly, as though he was asking for tea instead of threatening her. "I just want to know how it all works. I can be more helpful when I know the big picture." 

"The big picture." he stared at her, wondering if she'd figured it all out. Him, Bae, anything and everything. The idea that she might have was genuinely terrifying, yet not all that surprising. Belle was too smart for her own good and he’d already showed her too much of him and his intentions.

"How magic works," she clarified and he blinked. Yes. Of course. That was where her curiosity lay. She didn't know the rest. She couldn't. 

"I have power." he thought of the dagger. "And I have will." 

"Well, I don't doubt that." Belle's hands ran along his back. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to cast her off or lean into it, but he never got a chance. Belle was already moving away from him. "And now you have a robin's eggs so what will you do?" 

"Don't you have tea to brew?" he reminded her and she smiled, sitting on the table next to him, kicking her feet slightly. 

"You won't drink it until you're done," she stated confidently. "So if you'd hurry up, we'd both be drinking tea by now."

He gaped at her, as her eyes sparkled mischievously. He'd never been spoken to thusly in his life, especially not by the help. He floundered, halfway between telling her off and letting her continue, simply to see what she might say next. Belle smiled and then nudged him in the thigh with her toe. 

He turned back to the spell at hand, shaking his head slightly to rid himself of thoughts of her. A simple protection spell, one that he'd bottle and sell. But tricky, if he didn't focus. So he carefully took the eggshell and ground it up finely, pouring it into the mixture. He felt Belle watching him and then he carefully turned it three times, until it glowed the softest, faintest purple and shimmered in the vial. 

"There," he said quietly, handing it to her for her inspection. 

"What is it?" she took it eagerly, looking at it from every direction. 

"Protection," he stated. "A few drops and the drinker is safe from most things. This brew covers everything from normal sicknesses to small wounds. A more rigorous and difficult potion can even keep someone from grievous harm." 

"Ah." one of Belle's eyebrows flew up and she carefully set the bottle down, her blue eyes calculating as she looked back up at him. "So how much of this have I drunk then?" 

He stared at her in silence. She wasn't angry, apparently. If anything, she was teasing him but he couldn't understand why she would be. He'd been dosing her all this time, without her knowledge. He began spluttering for an answer, any answer but then Belle laughed, a happy joyful sound. 

"I...." he had no idea how to proceed. 

"How many potions and spells have you made for me?" she hopped off the table, going to get tea. "I'm sure I've got at least three protection spells on me. And you never fail to make me my tea for.... My monthly guest and it helps with my cramps. I've never been sick or hurt when I used to be clumsy and unlucky enough for both, so I'm assuming that I've swallowed more than a few mouthfuls.”

"Well...." he hated to admit to interfering with her, but hadn't he started all of that when he'd stolen her away? "You mortals require so much caring for." 

"Well, I'm glad it's you that takes care of me." Belle brought him the chipped cup and set it in front of him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and bringing him in for an awkward side hug. Given that he was sitting and she was standing, his head pressed into her stomach. 

He was dizzy when she let him go. 

* * *

  
  
  


“Please,” Belle begged, tears in her eyes. “Please, please, no more.” 

“Had enough dearie?” he asked her silkily and Belle nodded, gasping. 

“Please — oh, no more.” Belle held her side and rolled over, wheezing. 

“I had no idea you’d get so much…. Pleasure from that,” he observed and Belle sat up, wiping away her tears of laughter and massaging the stitch in her side. 

“I didn’t know you had so many funny stories,” she accused him and he gave her a thin smile. They were sitting in the study, having been off in their own little worlds until Belle had asked him about a certain artifact, and he’d gotten to tell her the story of how he acquired it. Said story involved pigs, a rather garish yellow wig, and a hundred of the finest pearls he’d ever seen in his life. A wild tale and one Belle had apparently found deeply funny. 

“Most do not find them amusing.” most called him beastly. 

“Well, people should read the terms of the contract,” Belle declared stoutly, still wiping away tears from her laughter. “I did, after all.” 

“Most don’t think that far ahead.” and most did not hold up their end of their deal like Belle. They tried to weasel their way out of it. Belle went about her tasks cheerfully, even when he was foul to her. Was it any wonder that he found her such a marvel?

“So you got it in the end then?” eyes still glistening from his lively and rambunctious story, Belle sat up. Smiling indulgently at her, he rose and when to pick the item up off the shelf to bring it to her. It was a strange prism, with tiny slits covered in the surface. Belle turned it over in her hands curiously. 

“It’s an acheron configuration,” he told her. “It can hold a being of intense power and may only be opened by solving the puzzle.” 

“Oh!” Belle had raised it up to her eyes and discovered the most interesting feature — when looking into the configuration, the colors inside shifted and changed. It was almost addictive and he saw how reluctantly she lowered it down. “What’s inside?” 

“I haven’t a clue,” he revealed and Belle’s jaw dropped. “I’ve never been able to solve it. Perhaps you’ll have better luck, dearie.” 

“Huh.” Belle raised it to her eye again and stared for a long minute. When she put it down again, he smiled at her. “Well, I’ll need something to do while you’re gone again this week.” 

“Yes. That.” Regina had called upon him to assist her. He would do so, reluctantly. Regina was still the key to casting the curse that would bring him back to Bae. He could not - and would not - risk anything for that. But it was time away from Belle, which he was not looking forward to. He chose not to dwell on the why. “See to it you don’t spend too many hours lazing in the sun. What use do I have for an idle maid?” 

“Maybe I should wait until you’re home,” Belle fretted, ignoring his tease entirely. She was still inspecting the device. “What if there is something truly evil inside?” 

“Belle, I’ve been trying to open that thing for a century or two.” he raised his cup in a toast to her. “I don’t think you’ll manage it in a weekend.” 

_When was he going to learn not to count out his smart little maid?_

“Rumplestiltskin!” Belle wailed, cowering below a table, hands protectively over her head. “Do something!” 

He stared at her in mute astonishment. There on the table lay the acheron configuration, the panels laid out and opened. And there, flying around the beams of the ceiling, circled a winged fire demon. He raised his hand to protect his face as it dove for him, belching flames and he heard Belle’s shriek of fear. 

He’d only gotten home three minutes ago. How did she get up to such trouble? 

He waited until the head faded and then lowered his arm, patting out a smoldered piece of rug beside him. The demon was flying up towards the ceiling again so he took his chance to run for Belle, skidding to a halt to kneel beside her, one eye still on the demon in case it decided a second pass was necessary. 

“Stay quiet,” he snapped at Belle and she grabbed his face. 

“How are you still alright? You were on fire,” she whimpered. He shed his coat and used it to cover her. 

“Dragonhide.” it was impervious to fire, which is why he wore it around Regina and her signature fireballs. But it was coming in handy now. “Stay here.” 

“Don’t!” Belle cried as he left the table. He had a freezing spell in here somewhere, one strong enough to stop the fiery thing. He just needed to reach it and to keep the demon away from Belle at the same time. He ducked behind a statue as the demon whirled and dove again, scorching a tapestry. Now that was just rude. He darted and weaved across the hall, trying to time his actions when the demon was high above him and also not near the items of greatest value. 

“C’mere, dearie,” he muttered, reaching the cabinet. The drawers rattled when he opened them, potions and bottles clanking together as he dug through them to find the one he most needed. He heard the demon coming for him and this time, with no coat to protect him, he was more likely to be singed. Not enough to really hurt him, but it would be unpleasant. Grasping for the bottle, his fingers closed around it and he turned, opening and throwing it in one hasty movement. 

There was a thud as the fire demon froze and then fell to the floor, simply a small, smokey grey bird now. He exhaled a shaking breath, letting the empty bottle fall to the floor where it shattered. Well, whatever he’d been expecting to be in the acheron configuration, it certainly hadn’t been that. But perhaps he could find a use for it? He gave it a thoughtful prod with his boot.

“Rumplestiltskin!” 

“Belle!” he remembered what had started off this chain of events and turned back to her, taking several strides towards her. She was crawling out from under the table, shaking and weeping, and he caught her up in his arms when she collapsed into them, tears running down her cheeks. “Are you alright?” 

“I didn’t know, I didn't know, I didn't know.” she was rambling. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“Nor I.” he brushed her hair back, trying to see if she was harmed in any way. She seemed not to be, other than the way she was trembling and how pale she’d gone. “Belle, darling, please tell me, are you alright?” 

“You gave me your coat.” she was sobbing harder now and he simply held her close, carding his fingers through her hair softly, trying to comfort her. “I thought you were going to die, just like…. Like…. Like mother!” 

Ah. So that was the reason. He remembered that day in the library - how could he forget it? - and how she’d been under the table, hidden from a monster, while her mother sacrificed herself for her daughter. He could see how Belle might draw parallels to this situation. He briefly closed his eyes, trying to keep his tone level and calm. “Well, I’m alright Belle. It will take more than that to kill me, I’m afraid.” 

It wasn’t the best choice of words, perhaps. Belle gave a tiny sniff and turned her head into his chest, still weeping. He sighed and gently rubbed her back, gently rocking back and forth and recalling that when Bae had been inconsolable like this, the best course of action was to simply wait it out, then offer tea and some form of sweets. He could only hope that Belle would react as favorably to the tactic as his son once had. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, when it seemed like the worst of her grief was past and she’d spent some of her tears. 

“I know.” he ran another hand over her hair, just relieved that she was unharmed. “How the devil did you figure it out though?” 

“Research,” she answered shakily and he felt the corners of his mouth turn up. Of course she had done it properly. “The inventor left a clue in his journal, I thought it would be another trick or something but I….” 

“You figured it out.” of course she did. Never-mind that he was a centuries old being with an unfathomable amount of power and she was a princess turned caretaker turned researcher with hardly two decades under her belt. She was smarter than him by far. “I’m just glad you waited until I was home dearie.” 

“Me too.” she gripped him tighter. He’d arrived home to her satisfied smirk, telling him that she’d solved it while he had been out. He’d followed her to the main hall, sure that she hadn’t done such a thing. Then she’d given it a twist and all hell had broken loose. 

“Tea?” he suggested, not wanting to put her down but knowing that he had to. This, whatever it was, had to be temporary. He was still a beast - protector of her or not. 

“Are you not furious with me?” she asked, looking up at him in surprise. He looked back at her with equal surprise. How could he be? He was still thanking any and all powers that be that she was alright. 

"Belle, I studied that thing for decades. I had no idea you'd figure it out so quickly. How could I be angry about that?" he allowed himself to brush away a lingering tear on her cheek. "You're just full of surprises." 

"Tea." Belle was holding very, very still. Likely repulsed at his comfort now that she had calmed down somewhat. He made himself draw back, recoiling from her and her warmth. "Yes, I'd really like some tea."

"Of course." he released her stiffly, cursing himself internally for overstepping such bounds with her. She did not feel the same way he did. He was old and monstrous and cruel. She was young and beautiful and smart, of course any man would want her! But with a sort of sick pleasure, he reminded himself that not any man could have her. She was his, in all ways but her heart. And as horrible as that made him, he could not bring himself to care.

"What will you do with it?" Belle asked, as he went to ready to kettle. She was standing over the still frozen demon, looking at it with concern. "You won't hurt it, will you?" 

"Do you recall, dearie, that not ten minutes ago that thing was raining hellfire down on your pretty little head?" he stared at her incredulously. 

"Yes but I'm sure it was just scared," she said eagerly. "Wouldn't you be, locked away for all that time and then suddenly released to where there are endless possibilities?" 

"You have a tender heart." he handed her the tea cup, struggling to determine if he said it with admiration or derision. "I'm afraid it could get you killed." 

"No." a little smile played about Belle's lips as she shrugged his coat on fully, sparking something deep and primal within him at the sight of her in his clothing, like she chose to be clothed in something of his. "Not when I have you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the song belle sings is from carnival row on amazon prime and i 10/10 recommend watching it. there's a very rumbelle storyline in it and it's a fav! 
> 
> and belle's device is a reference to chilling adventures of sabrina, which i just like! 
> 
> and the 'you have a tender heart' line is from something i think but i CANNOT remember where so if anyone knows.... 
> 
> reviews are love and blessings friends!


	12. footsteps in a forest must always tell a story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVELIEST @DeliriumsDelight7 !!! 
> 
> for your birthday, since i am poor and far away, a new chapter
> 
> may you have the best day friend

Belle couldn't put her finger on what had changed as the days began to draw shorter, but something certainly had. She and Rumplestiltskin went about their normal routines, where Belle rose and made them tea and completed her chores, while he would disappear for deals or receive visitors or otherwise occupy himself in his study. 

Belle would join him to work on whatever bit of research she found herself stuck in the middle of; translating old texts, trying to track down some magical artifact, or reviewing the finer points of deals. Really, she rather thought she could take a spin as the Dark One. She worked alongside him, ate alongside him, and in the evenings, would occasionally walk around the grounds alongside him. She learned more in her months with him than she had in her entire lifetime before. 

They'd been doing so for months, this routine of theirs. But there was a different sort of chemistry in the air between them now. And Belle occasionally caught him looking at her when he thought she wouldn't notice. And she found herself doing the same, noticing more than she ever had before. 

Like the fact that he wore leather pants. Their little adventure with the fire demon had shown her that his clothing wasn't all theatrical - some of it was practical as well, shielding him from things like fire or harmful magic. But that didn't detract from the fact that they were still leather - and rather tight. 

Additionally, in the summer, he wasn't quite as.... Buttoned up as she expected him to be. Gone were the undershirts with a vest and a coat and a cloak. If she startled him in the mornings, she could sometimes find him with his billowing shirt untucked and undone at the neck, revealing the glistening skin there. It was like he was nearly naked. Belle could laugh at how scandalous it all felt. 

She found herself thinking about touching him. And not just the quick grasps they'd shared before, trying to bring one back from danger or to stop the other from charging off into it. She wanted to trace her fingers along his skin, to see if the scales were smooth and warm, or rough and cool. She wanted to run her hands through his wiry curls. She wanted to watch the sunshine sparkle in his golden eyes, odd as they were. 

And more worryingly, she wanted him to touch her. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember how if felt when he'd ran his hands through her hair, trying to calm her down when she'd been convinced that he was going to die because of her. Goosebumps still raised on her arms when she thought of the sensation. 

Belle knew what this meant. She'd read enough romance novels to know the signs, even if she’d once scoffed at the very idea. But she was not some fate-destined heroine and he was not some gallivanting knight. This was the real world. And Belle had learned that here, there were consequences. 

She looked over at him. They'd been working together in the study this morning, trying to locate a very rare set of shears. Every time they hit a dead end, he had gotten more and more tense, until a fit of rage had driven him to throw a (thankfully empty) vase at the wall opposite Belle and shatter it. 

Belle had lightly suggested tea. He had, begrudgingly, agreed. 

Now he was sitting at his wheel and spinning, which she knew was to calm him down. And she was going to take down the curtains on the windows once and for all, since any time she opened them, they were shut again before she'd turned around. But she kept getting distracted at the sight of those long, nimble fingers, teasing and pulling the thread.

"Why do you spin so much?" she found herself asking before she could stop herself. Rumplestiltskin slowly stopped the wheel and turned to look at her, eyebrows raised to find her high atop a ladder. "Sorry, it's just…. You've spun straw into more gold than you could ever spend." 

"I like to watch the wheel. Helps me forget," he revealed in a quiet tone, running a hand over the smooth wood.

"Forget what?" she questioned him softly and he looked up at her. She saw the briefest flicker of pain across his face before he gave a high pitched giggle.

"I guess it worked!" he deflected and she couldn't help but chuckle, shaking her head. She’d learned to take these moments in stride; for every bit of himself he showed her, another piece remained carefully hidden away. She’d get to those in time too, she was sure. It was just a matter of patience with him. He rose and came over to observe her, head cocked. "What are you doing?"

"Opening these once and for all!" she declared firmly. "It's been a year since I've arrived and I cannot get them to stay open. Besides, it's almost fall, we should let some light in while we have it." she reached up and tugged, grunting a bit when they refused to budge. "What did you do, nail them down?"

"Yes," he stated, like it should've been obvious. She gave him an exasperated look, then reached up to get a better grip and grab as forceful a tug as she could manage. The curtain ripped away abruptly and she tried to catch her balance on the ladder, but her center of gravity was too far off. She didn't even have time to yell as she fell for the ground, surely going to break something or -- 

She opened her eyes, still braced for a painful impact. But instead, she had been caught by Rumplestiltskin. He held her close to his chest, blinking at the now dazzling light coming in through the large windows. Her breath caught as she realized how close they were and he turned to look at her. 

Belle's whole body felt like she was going to explode. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't think. She was looking at him like she was seeing him for the first time. And he was beautiful, skin glinting in the sun and his arms firmly around her. She knew he was strong, that his small stature hid a deceptive amount of power within and now she felt it, the ease with which he held her close. 

How many times had he protected her? Saved her? Caught her? Her eyes flickered to his lips before going back to his eyes. Why were they so familiar? Why, when she looked into them, did she think of something else, something that felt like home? 

How long had he been catching her, saving her from certain injury or doom? How long had he been doing this? And how long had she felt like this - like she loved him? 

"Oh.... Thank you." she realized she had to speak or risk giving everything away. It was like she'd freed him from a spell; he started back to life and awkwardly put her back down on the ground. "Thank you," she repeated breathlessly.

"It's no matter." his eyes flitted to her face, then down to her chest before resolutely fixing on the windows.

"I'll, uh, put the curtains back up." she blushed and ducked, but stayed still when he rested a hand on her shoulder. 

"Uh, there's no need. I'll get used to it," he promised and she smiled as he wandered, almost dazed, back to his wheel. As he went by, each curtain slid open and stayed that way. She folded up the fallen curtain and tried to squelch the feelings blossoming in her heart. 

Something kept replaying in Belle’s mind as the afternoon faded into evening and she went to prepare their evening meal. She thought of her hands on his chest, the strength of his arms as he held her. The strange texture of his skin and the lovely warmth. But mostly she was thinking of his eyes - flicks of gold and green with the deep brown, the depth within them. Something about it was so familiar….

Belle dropped the pot on the kitchen table, splattering stew everywhere, including scalding her arms. She paid no mind; her mouth was half open, her hand idly reaching for the necklace that she always wore. Her mother’s necklace, the one she’d been given when Colette was killed in the attack. The attack that Belle had survived. 

Her memories still weren’t there. When she thought of that day, she didn’t remember anything after them gathering books. For one second it was just her mother’s smile and them holding the book - Belle’s favorite heroic tale - and then blackness. Blackness until she had woken up to her father’s grief. 

Except….

There had been a flash of something. Something Belle had thought was her imagination or a side effect from hitting her head or a similar injury. 

Gold-green. With soft, warm brown. 

She sat down heavily, the stew long forgotten. 

It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t. Yet, when she set aside her emotions and feelings, her hopes and dreams and wishes, the logic remained. 

How long? How long had he been watching her? Long enough to know that she was bookish and studious, smart and educated. He’d told her as much. But then how had he even known she was under attack? She knew that should she find herself in a dangerous situation now, he’d know. But this had been before they’d ever even met. He shouldn’t have known about her. Yet, he had to have. Belle knew those eyes. She’d seen them. 

He’d been the one to rescue her from the ogres. It had never made sense to her, the way that no one had ever been able to explain to her how exactly she had made it out of there safely and her mother hadn’t. But if Rumplestiltskin had done it by magic, then…. Then he was there. He had saved her yet again. 

She wasn’t sure if the feelings rolling around inside of her were anger or fear or thanks or something else entirely. Mostly, she wanted answers. Why had he been there? Why had he saved her and not her mother? How had he even known that she had been in trouble in the first place? It had been months before she’d even made her plea to him! Belle rubbed her forehead, frowning. 

Why couldn’t she have just focused on his chest? 

She’d ask over their dinner of stew. The stew she’d spilled everywhere. With a grimace, she glanced at it. There was enough still in there if she had a small portion. It would have to do. She dished up two bowls and headed to the main hall, carrying both bowls up. She paused and took a deep breath to steady her nerves, then called, 

“Rumplestiltskin!”

“Stew?” he appeared with a critical look and Belle gave him as sweet a smile as she could muster. “Your portion seems a bit lacking, dearie.” 

“I’m not hungry,” she bluffed, setting the bowls down and sitting beside him. He gave her a curious look but then slowly began to eat. Belle tried to do the same, taking small spoonfuls into her mouth. After a few silent minutes, Rumplestiltskin finally broke it. 

“Is something on your mind, Belle?” he looked strangely nervous and she could about imagine what was on his mind. But the curtains were far behind Belle now. 

“Yes.” it was now or never. She reached up automatically to touch the necklace that sat at the hollow of her throat. “Did I…. Did I ever tell you the story of this necklace?” 

Something like surprise and suspicion ran across his face and he slowly set down his spoon. “I don’t believe you have.” 

“It’s my mother’s.” her hands were shaking, but her voice was strong. “Or it was, until she died. The ogres attacked the summer castle and she was killed but I was alright. Afterwards, my father gave me her necklace. It was the one that he gave her when they were married and she never took it off. And now…. I don’t either.” 

“Belle. I am so sorry for your loss,” he muttered and Belle looked at him, heart thumping hard in her chest. 

“Why did you save me and not her?”

She’d meant to ask it with more tact and a lot more delicately. But she couldn’t stop herself. It was all that mattered. Tears brimmed in her eyes, making his outline blurry. But even with all that, she could still see him sigh and reach over to take her hand. He was warm in her grip, reminding her of this afternoon with the curtains. How had such a happy memory turned into something so…. Sad? 

“I was too late.” there was sincerity in his tone that Belle so rarely heard. He wasn’t lying to her. He wasn’t being dismissive. He was telling her the truth and she was glad for it. “I…. I arrived there too late, Belle. It was a choice of you or her. And I had to save you.” 

“Why?” she demanded, tears dripping down her cheeks. Rumplestiltskin’s thumb gently stroked over her knuckles. 

“Because…. It was you Belle.” 

She closed her eyes briefly. There was more there. So much more. But there was something else that mattered. 

“How…. Why…. Did you come?” 

“You were in danger,” he said simply. 

“How did you know that?” Belle demanded, staring at him. He paused for a long moment, like he was weighing his response. Belle wondered if she would keep getting honesty or if it was time for lies from him. Then, very slowly and carefully, he brought her hand to his lips and pressed it there for a moment. It was as though he was speaking, lips brushing over her skin. Before Belle had time to react to it, to the goosebumps rising, he pressed her hand to her forehead. 

Everything came rushing back. 

The library. Hiding under the table. The ogre roaring above them and then Rumplestiltskin was there, his arms around Belle. And for a moment, everything was still. Colette, eyes wide, clearly saw him. And then, a barely perceivable nod. A mother sacrificing herself to save her daughter. Rumplestiltskin's arms tightened and then they were gone, to the safety of the hall. Rumplestiltskin loomed over her, fear in his eyes softening to relief. 

“I’m sorry Belle,” he had whispered, pressing two fingers to her forehead. “Please, forget. Forget me, forget this pain….” 

Belle’s head swam as she brought herself back to the present. Rumplestiltskin was still sitting across from her, apprehensive. Belle wiped away the tears, feeling as though something had been lifted from her. She remembered. She knew. She had never forgotten her mother. Rumplestiltskin had been protecting her. 

“Thank you,” she said weakly. Rumplestiltskin gave her a strange look, but he didn’t let go of her hand until long after the stew had gone cold, forgotten between them. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The last time Belle had witnessed fall at the Dark Castle, she had been filled with fear and grief, homesick and sure that there would never come a time where she would ever enjoy her new life. But what a difference a year made. 

This fall was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Allowed onto the grounds this year, she spent days in the sun, harvesting from the gardens and watching as the leaves began to change into the most brilliant shades. She soaked it all in, never as blissful as she was when she was walking around the walls with a book in one hand and an apple in the other, observing how lovely nature could be. 

She wondered what the rest of the world looked like as she looked over the forest. She wished she could see it. There was so much to see and she'd experienced such a tiny corner of it in her short, few years. The Dark Castle was so far from Avonlea, she couldn't help but wonder what was between them. 

That evening, her task was an old and faded map. Belle, having rigged up a magnifying glass using a light and some glass, was painstakingly retracing the outlines and borders. She had to take frequent breaks to make sure that she didn't smudge the ink, which she didn't mind. It allowed her to look over the rest of the map. 

"The kingdom of Andalasia was conquered and absorbed into Misthaven during the fourth reign, right?" she asked Rumplestiltskin, rubbing her dry eyes. 

"Yes, dearie." he was deep into another book, his brow furrowed. But when he glanced up, an amused smirk crossed his face. Belle raised an eyebrow, wondering what set him off and he rose, conjuring a rag. He bent in front of her and Belle stayed very still, as he swiped it over her cheek and then leaned back, showing her that she'd smeared ink over her face. Blushing, she took the rag. "Why do you ask?" 

"Oh, it's still Andalasia here." she gestured to the map. "I was wondering when it had changed. I've heard that there is a waterfall there that produces endless rainbows. And that there's statues there that are as old as the forest itself! And the -- " she stopped when she realized that she was rambling, getting too far ahead of herself. 

Rumplestiltskin was staring at her curiously, his book now laying forgotten off to the side. She grimaced, sure he was going to remind her that she'd never, ever get to see such wonders. But then he spoke in as sweet a tone as he had and surprised her. 

"I will make you a deal, Belle." 

"Another one?" she raised her eyebrow, setting down her quill so that she wouldn’t ruin the map. "What can I possibly have to trade?" 

"If you finish that there map --" he pointed to her current project. " -- I will let you accompany me to the client who asked for it. In Misthaven. If they are satisfied with your work and you behave accordingly, perhaps we can see the waterfall." 

"Do you mean it?" she gasped. She’d never once imagined that he would take her outside the castle walls, not after the disaster that was Robin Hood. She had made her peace with it or at least resolved not to let him see how deeply it bothered her. But the chance to get out, to see such wonders? 

"I want to leave at first light," he declared sternly and Belle glanced down at the half-finished map. 

"Fine." she'd work through the night. Anything, to be able to see such sights! 

"Why do you want to travel so badly?" he asked her, seemingly startled at how easily she'd agreed. She smiled as she got up to get herself more ink, turning her back on him so he wouldn’t see the delight and decide to rescind his gift. 

"I like to see new places, and new people, and new things," she explained, as calmly as she could when she wanted to shout and jump with glee. "It's like a fresh slate, all over again. I can be a new person. I can find new knowledge. I can think new thoughts. It's.... Just rather exciting."

"And you're not going to run off?" he demanded harshly and Belle set down the ink, turning to him with a polite smile. He was near her, as he always was when he felt like intimidating her. Well, let him see that wasn’t going to work. 

"At least not until I've seen the waterfall," she teased, then stretched up on her tippy toes and boldly brushed a light kiss against his cheek. When she pulled back, he looked rather stricken and she bit her lip to stop herself from smirking. A point to her then. "Thank you, Rumplestiltskin." 

"First light," he reminded her waspishly and Belle, unbothered, took that as her dismissal. She really did have work to do. 

Rumplestiltskin - or the castle - was kind enough to keep the candles burning all night for her. Belle stayed focused on the map - tracing outlines where she could and poring over old accounts when the lines had faded too badly for her to make out. It was tedious work, but she didn't have time to rise and stretch or even fetch herself more tea. This had to be done. She would not miss her chance to see marvels. She didn’t know if she’d ever have the chance again with her fickle master. 

It was still pitch black when she finished the thing. She sat back to stare at her work in exhausted satisfaction. The ink would dry and then it could be rolled up and transported away. Belle slid right out of the chair and onto the floor. Perhaps she'd be able to snatch a few moments of sleep before….

"Dearie." something was gently tapping her cheek. She swatted it away, assuming it was just magic, but then opened her eyes when she made contact with something. She was asleep on a chaise that had not been in the study last night, covered with a blanket. Rumplestiltskin was standing over her, having evidently been waking her. 

"I'm awake," she gasped, sitting up too fast so that her head spun. From the light coming in from the study's windows, she knew that the sun had long ago risen. Was he already done, there and back without her? The idea made her panic. She’d wasted her one shot at getting to see anything at all.

"Is that so?" Rumplestiltskin stepped back to give her space and Belle saw that the map was now rolled up in the case that he now wore on his back. Relief flooded through her; she hadn’t missed him after all. "Could've fooled me."

"I just shut my eyes for a moment." she peeked under the chaise and found her shoes. "I'm ready to go." 

"Not like that you aren't," he remarked and she looked up at him, affronted, only to be holding tea and a biscuit a moment later. "I don't want you complaining of an empty stomach while we're away. No magical, food providing castle where we're going." 

"Oh, alright." she shoved the entire biscuit in her mouth and swallowed the tea around it. "Fan vee guff?" 

"Ladylike." he was amused, she could tell. "But yes, we can go." 

Delighted, she bounded to her feet and took his arm. They were just reaching the foyer when Rumplestiltskin gently slowed her to a stop and then turned, taking her hand. Bemused, she looked up at him, wondering if he'd changed his mind and was going to leave her behind after all. But then, with a puff of smoke, he conjured a golden bracelet that he carefully locked onto her wrist. 

Belle raised it to look it over curiously. It looked like the thread he spun into gold each night, tiny golden links all locked together. They shimmered and glittered when she twisted this way and that, cool and heavy against her skin. She lowered her wrist and looked at Rumplestiltskin, skeptical. 

"It's wonderful. But you've never been one for gifts." 

"It's not a gift. If you attempt to stray too far from me, this bracelet will paralyze you on the spot," he informed her, like one informed another that they liked grapes or that the weather was nice. "It can also render you invisible, should I deemed that necessary." 

"Does it do anything else?" she asked him, once he was done. "Turn me into a pumpkin if I'm not in bed before midnight?" he'd clearly expected her to pout or rage or yell. When was he going to learn that she didn't care? 

"Er, no." clearly taken aback, he shook his head. Belle hid her smirk. 

"Then we shall go." she took his arm again and marched him out of the castle at a brisk speed. "I have a waterfall to see." 

He used magic to take them to Misthaven, as she'd assumed he would. It would have been much too far to ride, weeks of journeying. But with magic, they were there in a blink of an eye, Belle holding tightly to him. Once she'd caught her breath, she looked out eagerly, only to be disappointed. 

They were standing in a forest, just like the one surrounding the castle. The leaves were lovely, of course, and crunched pleasingly underfoot. But it was nothing Belle hadn't already seen before. She turned to Rumplestiltskin to ask him what the plan was, but noticed he was holding the case for the map in his hands. 

Right. Business first. 

"I'll turn you invisible before we arrive at the manor," he told her, as they strode along the path. Belle tried not to be too obvious in the way she craned her neck, trying to look at every little thing. "Do not say or do anything. I'd like for you to silently observe. And see if you learn something, dearie." 

"What am I trying to learn?" she asked and he gave a little smile. 

"I'm sure you'll figure something out." 

"Will you at least tell me who we're visiting?" she asked, kicking up the leaves because she could and ignoring the way her companion rolled his eyes at her.

"No," he answered flatly. "You don't need to know that." 

"I work better when I have all the information," she insisted and he turned to her, taking her hand and giving the bracelet a twist. She felt as though she'd been dunked in cold water or that a cold breeze was blowing straight through her. 

"You've done enough work already. Now shush, dearie, or the mortals will think you're a ghost. And believe me, they hate that." 

Giggling at the idea of being a ghost, she padded along behind him as they approached a large, lovely home. It had high brick walls covered in ivy and vines, with large, spiked gates. Belle watched as Rumplestiltskin strode right through them and was surprised that she could do the same. The house was a low, wide thing, with brick to match the walls and even, tidy little gardens. They entered through the main door, where a manservant bowed low to Rumplestiltskin and escorted him to a study. 

Whoever the man was, he was obviously a noble of some sort. Belle knew royals and riches when she saw them and this was even nicer than her old castle. And the man himself, a great, imposing sort of figure, sat at a desk surrounded by papers, scratching his chin with a quill thoughtfully. He was dressed in velvet and ermine, with jewels on his fingers. Upon Rumplestiltskin's entrance with the manservant and an unknown Belle, he jumped to his feet and performed a low bow. 

"Dark One," he muttered reverently and Rumplestiltskin accepted his deference with a nod of his head. 

"I have your request," Rumplestiltskin stated, in a high, cold voice. It was so unlike the tone that he usually took with her that Belle almost took a step back. She'd forgotten what this was like, forgotten what he was like to the rest of the world, away from just the two of them. "Do you have my payment?" 

"Of course." the man produced a file and handed it over; Belle peeked over Rumplestiltskin's shoulder to see that it appeared to be some sort of deed. Then he snapped it shut and handed over the map. 

"I take it that everything is to your satisfaction?" Rumplestiltskin demanded coldly and the man ran a hand over the map, looking awestruck. 

"It's.... Incredible," he breathed. "It's perfect." 

Unseen, Belle smirked. 

"Unless you have a further deal you'd like to make?" Rumplestiltskin questioned and the man shook his head, unable to tear his eyes away. Rumplestiltskin swept out of the house and Belle trailed after him. Once they were a safe distance away, Rumplestiltskin reached out so that she could place her wrist in his grasp. 

The first thing he saw was her smug smile. 

"Incredible," she stated pointedly and he sighed. "Perfect, he said." 

"Yes dearie, you'll have your waterfall," he promised tiredly but she saw the smile as he took her arm and magicked them away. 

He dropped them at the base of a steep trail with a smug look and a quip - "did you think I would make this easy for you?" - but Belle simply reached down for her skirts and kitted them up. After pausing to enjoy the scandalized look on his face, she began her trek upwards towards the waterfall. 

He didn't know that she'd climbed something as steep as this on her adventure to the trolls with Anna. The memory made the guilt and sadness rise up, but she determinedly pushed it down. She could only honor Anna now by making brave choices. And she really wanted to see that waterfall. 

Rumplestiltskin disappeared but she knew he wasn't too far, since all her limbs remained in proper working order even as she climbed higher and higher, the roar of the water getting louder as she went. Panting slightly, she scrambled over the last ridge and froze, her mind trying desperately and failing to comprehend the scope of natural beauty that she was now looking upon. 

The water fell from such a great height that Belle could barely see it when she craned her entire head back. But it tumbled over the edge, down a massive distance, before landing in a thundering roar far below. All around it, as droplets flew and were hit by sunbeams, rainbows shifted and turned everywhere she looked. 

She'd seen magic up close. It was nothing like this. 

Belle thought that perhaps she was getting hit by droplets before realizing she was crying. Laughing at her tears, she threw her arms wide, embracing the damp. She'd never tire of looking at such a scene. How could anyone? It was the most glorious thing. 

"Belle," called Rumplestiltskin and she turned reluctantly to find him a short distance away, safe from where the mist reached. He was standing above a small basket and when Belle approached, wary that it was going to be another child, she was pleasantly surprised to find food. "Cannot have you starving now." 

"You needn't do that, you know," she remarked, pulling out the tea and hunk of bread and cheese. 

"Do what?" 

"You can do nice things for me without acting as though it pains you greatly." he had packed their usual tea set, including his chipped cup. "You do nice things for me because you like me. Because we are friends." 

"I am the Dark One." he said it without malice; a reminder for her. Belle shrugged, unbothered by this. It was just another facet of who he was. One that Belle didn’t particularly care for, but him all the same. 

"And I am just your maid." she poured the tea and then sat so that she could watch the tumbling water. Slowly, he sat beside her and took his own tea, joining her in silent contemplation of the beauty of the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have a very happy birthday my dear!!


	13. fixing is simply knowing, with more love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay you guys this chapter is one of my favs plz enjoy it!!

“Belle! Hurry up,” he called loudly, fiddling with his cufflinks. “Or I shall leave you behind!” 

“Oh, you’d never.” Belle was coming down the stairs of the foyer, unbothered. “You’d miss the company.” 

“Ah, the snark and the sass.” he waited for her at the door, amused. “I’ll soon take your tongue, dearie, and save me the headache.” 

“But then who would tell you that you are so clever?” Belle reached him and stuck her wrist out for her customary bracelet. When he wrapped it around, she took his arm and kept walking, still teasing him with a straight face. “Or that you’re being very contrary, or that you need to enjoy the sunshine?” 

“I hate the sunshine,” he remarked, as they walked to the stable. 

“Yes, that’s you being contrary,” Belle replied agreeably. “Now, threaten to turn me out and I will reply in turn that you could try but I would take the tea with me, and presently, we might arrive at the real topic of conversation. Where are we going today? It must be close, if we’re riding and not going by your magic.” 

So clever, and quick, and perceptive, his companion. He bit back a smile as they walked. It would not do to show her how amusing she really was and what happiness she brought him. He was sure she had an idea though, with all her teasing. "The coast. I have business with some captains there. You'll get to see the sea, dearie." 

"I love the sea!" Belle clapped her hands together in delight and he had to stop himself from telling her that he knew she did. He remembered her ease on ships, how she used her small amount of time on them to learn as much as possible. Such knowledge would reveal more than he was willing. 

"Try to contain yourself," he said dryly, as they arrived in the stables. Belle shot him a withering look before greeting Phillip with a sweet croon and some sugar cubes she'd snuck out to him. They both saddled their mounts and once all was well, rode out the gates and through the forest. 

Belle was an excellent rider, he had learned during her stay at his castle. It appeared it was the one sport that she would put a book down for. And now, outside of the walls where she could ride for longer than a short stretch, she was completely at ease in her saddle. He smiled to watch her, leaning over Phillip’s neck and whispering to the horse, the reins long forgotten in her lap. 

"Philip would like to gallop," she announced when she sat up. He glanced over and rolled his eyes at finding her, smug, and Phillip, baleful. 

"Would he now?" he asked dryly.

"Yes, and since he doesn't want me to fall off and hurt myself terribly when your magic kicks in, he says you must keep up," she stated with a glint in her eye. 

"Or perhaps this is yet another half-baked attempt to get away," he challenged her and Belle threw her head back, laughing. 

"If you don't want to lose to me, you can just say," she remarked offhandedly and his eyes narrowed. "I understand if you're not a skilled rider, I just thought--"

"Not a skilled rider?" that had been one thing he'd learned, when he'd amassed power and magic. Riding a swoop-belly nag like a sack of potatoes had been the lot of a poor, crippled spinner. Sitting astride a midnight-black war horse was befitting his station as Dark One. "Careful or I'd think that a challenge." 

"And if it is?" Belle tossed her hair over her shoulder, her curls glinting in the sunlight. He lost his breath at how the dappled sunlight cast shadows over her face, like some strange shapeshifter. 

"You'll lose." 

"Perhaps, but I'd dearly love to try." Belle's eyes searched his face and he had a moment where he wondered - were they still talking about racing? But before he could ponder it further, Belle had nudged Phillip into a trot and then he did the same to his mount and then they were cantering and then - 

He'd never seen Belle astride a horse at full gallop. He'd always thought the image would make him angry, because if Belle was galloping, it had to be to get away from him. But this wasn't that at all. This was Belle, hair streaming behind her, eyes alight, a wild joy on her face as she spurred Phillip on, faster and faster, dirt flying as they took the trail at full speed. He wouldn't use magic to win - no, that was cheating - but he used it to slow down time, just a moment, so that he could impress the beauty of this into his mind, forever. 

Belle reached the village first and slowed, letting Phillip blow. He reached her side a moment later and saw the grin of victory on her face. He gave her a silly little bow, acknowledging defeat and being gracious about it. Belle smirked and then tried to brush her hair back, laughing when she realized how hopeless it was, now tangled and messy from the wind. Good. He liked it wild about her face. 

"Come now, we have nothing we need from there today," he declared, watching as Belle's eyes slid towards the markets. He'd let her accompany him a few times, first invisible and then visible. He had half a mind to let her do the shopping by herself. The people at the market certainly liked her better than him; it'd only taken her one visit to make them smile and laugh, even if he hovered behind her. 

"How far a ride is it to the coast?" she asked him curiously, apparently not noticing the way that shutters slammed and children were snatched back indoors at the sight of them. The people of the village consented to live close to the shadow of the Dark Castle because it meant they received protection but it also meant dealing with his beastliness. No one wanted to cross him unless they had to. 

"A few hours." the fall day was too nice to waste. 

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad for the fresh air. And Phillip is glad for the exercise." she gave her horse a fond pat. "But why don't you just.... Poof us there?" 

"Because, dearie, all magic--"

"Comes with a price, yes, yes," she said impatiently. "It's just I've been with you for a year and I cannot figure out what the price may be.”

There were times that he felt the most acute gratitude for whatever twist of fate had brought him to Belle. It was usually when she'd found some little gem of information or had solved a clever little puzzle. When she brewed an especially fragrant cup of tea or brought him a cake, not because he ordered her to but because she knew he forgot to eat when he was busy and she cared for him. 

But right now, it was because he was half entertaining the idea that he would order her to plunge the dagger into his chest and allow her to take his power. What a fearsome creature she'd be to behold. She had ten times the intelligence he had at her age; she might be smarter than he was now and he had centuries of learning on her. What could she accomplish, with power and means?

"Magic decides the price," he told her slowly, trying to figure out how to explain this to her well. "The greater the ask, the greater the cost." 

"So what does whisking us to and fro cost?" she asked curiously. 

"Energy, mostly. Little magics like that, it's mostly energy. A short distance is simple. A longer one, more draining. And bringing along another person, or objects just adds to it." 

"So it takes effort to bring me places with you?" she asked in a perturbed tone and he gave her a sideways look. 

"Don't skip your sweets yet dearie. It's not weight or mass, it's.... Willingness. It's much harder to bring someone who doesn't want to go or who possesses magic to fight it. The same for an object. If it has magic or some strong ties to a place, it can require effort to get it free." he didn't mind telling Belle this. Usually he would guard this knowledge selfishly, but Belle already knew too much. What more could this hurt? 

"So then why the potions, the spells?" she asked. 

"It focuses the magic," he explained. "Brings out aspects. Much like you could eat all the elements of bread separately - the flour, the salt, the grain - but they become much sweeter when you combine them together. By adding more, or less, or in a different order, you may get different things. Instead of exhausting yourself performing one tiny spell, you let the elements come together, stronger and better for it." 

"Stronger and better together," Belle said thoughtfully and he had that same alarm that they weren't talking about magic anymore. "So it wouldn't tire you greatly to bring us down to the docks, yet here we are on horseback." 

"You need the fresh air," he muttered, thinking of her being locked away like a caged bird. She loved the outdoors so well and he had long ago stopped thinking himself some maniacal warden. And if he was there beside her, to see her in her glory, then perhaps it wasn’t all time wasted.

"Oh, and the sunshine before it disappears behind a slate sky all winter." Belle turned her face up towards it, her eyes drifting shut. 

Born in the spring she may have been, but Belle was the fall's bride if he ever saw one. Sure, she held the beautiful blush and a sweet and gentle nature of spring, as lovely as new life blooming. But there was something else in her - a spine of steel, a cold wind's bite, the odd beauty found in loss and death. He thought she'd never looked so at home as she did amongst the swirling leaves on a fall day. 

They rode to the docks in companionable silence. That was the other thing he appreciated about Belle - she was not one to force conversation if it was not needed. When they approached the town, smelling the salt in the air, he dismounted. They'd leave the horses here, protected and hidden, and go the rest of the way on foot. 

He reached up to help her down, her small hand sliding into his larger one. Even as her feet lightly hit the ground, she still held tight to him. He thought she’d want to be rid of him at the first opportunity but she was actually drawing closer, looking about curiously. He waved a hand to perform the spells to hide their horses, then followed her as they approached the town. He turned her invisible, as he usually did. 

His business took him down to the docks. It wasn’t his favorite place to be, but as he was swept up towards the trading house where he’d do the bulk of his business he found himself hoping that Belle would enjoy the hustle and bustle after so long in an isolated castle. Her hand was still clutched in his and he gave it a gentle squeeze. The doors to the trading house blew open for his entrance and he had a moment of satisfaction seeing the terror on the faces of everyone gathered. 

“Oh, Dark One, sir,” stammered one plump clerk, the ledger in his hands trembling. “Wel - Welcome.” 

“I am here to deal,” he said haughtily. “You will see me to the masters, they will be expecting me.” 

“Of course.” still quivering, the clerk escorted him away from the bulk of the trading happening to the much quieter upper floor, when he would meet with the respective captains. He came to the docks frequently, to deal with the hopeful sailors. Sometimes he found little treasures amongst the mundane and it was this promise that drew him here. He settled himself at the head of a long table, ignoring the clerk flittering around, asking if he needed anything. 

“A platter of lemon cakes.” he certainly wouldn’t eat, but he knew Belle would like them. “Set them in the corner. I will have them when I’m finished.” 

“Of course.” the clerk looked too frightened to wonder about the odd request and bustled off, glad to be away from him. 

The captains came to him. Rumplestiltskin had never been fond of them, not with his past, but for the most part they weren’t too bad. They brought him their wares and he inspected them carefully, trying to think about what he might be willing to pay for them and how he could trade them for an advantage down the line. He hoped that Belle was watching the proceedings carefully; he trusted her eye to pick up on anything that he might miss. 

It wasn’t the most productive outing he’d ever had, but it wasn’t the worst either. He turned one captain into a rat for a few minutes when he tried to tell him that some copper scrap was a protective amulet but then reversed it when a small hand smacked his shoulder. He ended up paying for a few genuine pieces and kept the amulet on principle. He didn’t let the delight show through until they were all dismissed; he then turned Belle visible. 

“What do you think, dearie?” he asked her, lazily reclining in the chair with his treasures spread in front of him. Belle pursed her lips, sorting through the items curiously.

“How did you know that the one was fake?” she asked, picking the amulet up and inspected it curiously. It looked realistic, but it lacked the certain magical aura that it should have had. “The carved runes are actually rather convincing.” 

“You do this for as long as me, you’ll just know.” he watched her with a smile as she fingered a shimmering goblet then was entirely distracted by a rare volume that he really had no use for but knew she’d appreciate it. He didn’t want to dwell on the implications of that. She thumbed through it eagerly, then paused to look at him.

“Is this all? Will we go home now?” she asked, a slightly dejected tone in her voice. He hadn’t planned on anything else, but he saw the clear longing in her face. And winter was looming, at which point their outings would diminish in frequency greatly. 

“Would you like a turn about the docks, or did the smell turn you away the first time around?” he asked her quietly and Belle looked up, her blue eyes alight. 

“I would love to see them,” she said eagerly. “They…. They remind me of home.” 

“Alright.” he waved his hand and the items on the table disappeared. Belle was positively dancing on the spot; she didn’t even blink when he took her wrist to hide her once again. Satisfied, he walked back through the trading house, hardly noticing the way everyone bowed out of his way. Beside him, he felt Belle’s shoulder brush his as she held his arm. For a wild second, he thought about revealing her so that everyone could see what beauty he held on his arm, who walked beside him unafraid. But then common sense brought him back and he went for the docks. 

If a sailor chanced to look at his face, they would usually scurry away. A few bolder ones might have opened their mouths to speak, but he simply used a bit of magic to push them back. He wouldn’t have anyone disrupting Belle’s excursion. They wandered through the stalls selling their catch from the day, towards the more central markets where cloth, fabric, and other imports were bartered over and sold, carts rumbling past. 

“Dark One!” cried a young voice and it was the desperation in the tone that caused him to stop. He knew when someone was willing to give up anything and everything, and this soul was that. It was almost too much to turn down, so he stopped and looked around. It was a boy, not much older than Bae had been when he’d been lost. But this child had bright green eyes. “Please, help me!” 

“What is it, dearie?” he trilled, feeling the familiar rush of glee that accompanied a deal. 

“The captain of my ship, he….” the child paused, clearly torn. “He told me that if I don’t bring you to him, he is going to make my little brother join his crew.” 

“And what business might your captain have with me, hmm?” he demanded, looking the child over for any sign of lies. 

“He wants to make a deal, he said that…. He said that you’d know when you saw him.” the boy seemed close to sobbing and he felt a twinge of sympathy for him. Likely he’d been taken first and gang-pressed into piracy but was hoping to avoid a similar fate for his little brother. 

“Take me to him,” he ordered and felt Belle’s hand slip into his elbow. He wanted to send her back to the horses, far away from whatever trap this might be, but he also felt that the only way to keep her safe was to always have her within reach. 

“Thank you.” the boy ducked and bowed, then scrambled to lead them towards a ship. Rumplestiltskin looked for a name as they approached and sighed when he saw that it was very clearly a pirate ship, done up to appear as an authentic Navy ship. But there was no mistaking what it was. When he first stepped onto the deck, the child scampered away, leaving him alone with Belle, as several figures closed ranks around him. 

“Told ya he’d be stupid enuff to follow the kid,” sneered one pirate, smelling foul and looking disheveled. 

“Wonder what kinda loot he’s got on ‘um,” breathed another, just as rancid and twice as ugly, raising a sword. 

“Oh dearie me.” he wasn’t worried in the slightest; with a look, these men would be bait fish, flopping on the deck. “I seem to have found myself in a trap.” 

“And they said you’d be hard to trick.” a booming voice rang out and Rumplestiltskin narrowed his eyes. The circle around him parted slightly and the captain arrived, tall and strapping with a distinctive ginger beard. 

“Bloodbeard, it has been too long,” he said conversationally, as though one of his many enemies hadn’t figured out a way to get him on his ship. “Though the last time we spoke, I believe you told me should you ever see me again, it would be at the pain of death for stealing that compass from you.” 

“And I believe that at that point, you sent my ship off into a blasted, cursed fog from which it took me two years to escape,” the captain ground out and Rumplestiltskin cackled at the memory of it. 

“I do recall!” 

“I’ve come for vengeance.” the captain moved forward, the blade of his sword out now and aimed at his throat. “I’ll take from you my share of your blood and wealth, and then we’ll call ourselves square!” 

“I don’t believe we will.” he drew his lips back in a snarl, ready to cut the man to ribbons with his own sword - a poetic sort of justice - when all of the sudden there was a loud crack and the captain crumpled to the ship’s deck, his sword clattering away. Bewildered, Rumplestiltskin looked around to see that there was an oar hovering in midair. 

Hovering at about the height of one small, enterprising maid. 

“How’s he doin’ that?” one pirate cried and the oar swung around to hit another pirate in the head. 

“He’s magic, inne?” yelled another and then there was a mad scramble as they all tried to flee. Rumplestiltskin rushed forward and seized where Belle’s arm might be; he missed but had caught her neck and so he roughly magicked them away, back to the horses. 

“Belle,” he muttered, once they were safely away. He found her wrist so that he could twist her bracelet. She came back into view, still holding tight to the oar and trembling from head to toe. “It’s alright Belle, we’re away. We’re safe.” 

“Are you sure?” she was still gripping the oar at the ready, so he gently reached over to tug it from her hands. 

“Yes, look around.” they were back in the forest. Her grip slackened and he was able to set the oar aside, worriedly looking her over for any signs of hurt. 

“Right.” she relaxed slightly. 

“Belle, what were you thinking? he demanded, now that they were safe and she was unhurt. She had nearly messed everything up, and for what? “Why did you do that? I could have handled them.” he hated the idea of her being put in any danger on his behalf, especially around those sorts of men. 

“I don’t like pirates,” she said stoutly, not caring in the least for his rage. “They came and raided our shores, we were forever having to pay them off to stop them. They’re cruel and vicious and dirty. I don’t know what Bloodbeard did to you, or what you did to him, but it’s a nasty trick to use a child to do your work for you!” 

He stared at her in amazement. There were times when his old life, before the dagger, felt like a dream. Like it belonged to another person or was some story he’d read. The only real thing was Bae. But it had been real, and it had been him. He’d lost one wife to pirates. Milah hadn’t thought them to be cruel or vicious or dirty. She’d sought them out. She’d left him for them. And he still carried that resentment in him, in his heart. Only for Belle to come along and somehow wash it all away. 

Slowly, he reached out to try and draw her into an embrace. Belle came willingly, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing tightly. He marveled at how she felt, so small and warm and above all, fragile. Yet she hadn’t thought of that. She thought of protecting him, even if it might have cost her something like her own safety. Truly, what a wonderful creature he’d found that night in Avonlea. 

“I’m glad you’re alright,” he muttered as he let her go and Belle, blushing, smoothed out her skirts. “But next time, leave it to me. I can protect myself, Belle.” 

“Yes, but you shouldn’t have to.” again with the beautiful smile and the flashing eyes, with that ironclad will hidden beneath such lovely beauty. 

“Home now, my little maid,” he ordered, before he could lose himself in that train of thought. Belle nodded her assent and went to get the horses. He picked up the oar and inspected it thoughtfully. It had no value, no magical properties. It was, in every sense of the word, ordinary. But still, as he ran a hand up and down the smooth, warm wood, it was now something to treasure. 

“Are you coming, Rumplestiltskin?” Belle called, already astride her Phillip. With a wave of his hand, he sent the thing to the castle. Belle saw and smirked, but said nothing as he came to ride alongside her, the two of them on the trail for home. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
Winter arrived that year not with blustering winds and flurrying snow, but with cold, wet rains and ice glistening on every surface. It was not snow that drove them indoors but a deep, bone-reaching chill. Belle had gone out for a stroll and came back blue lipped and shivering; it was then that he asked her not to do so without him, so that he could provide her with warmth. Belle agreed, once she could stop her teeth from chattering. 

It was also because of that incident that he found himself making new clothes for her; she had several sweaters and cloaks, but he wanted a dress for her, done properly, with enchantments woven in to keep her warm. He’d taken to working on it in the evenings when she was reading by the fire, once everything else was done. 

“Is it for me?” 

“What, dearie?” he looked up from where he was hemming the skirt. Belle was watching him from her usual perch, but her book was shut and in her lap. He wondered how long she had been observing him. 

“Is the dress for me?” she didn’t ask it with greed but simple curiosity. “The fabric isn’t rich enough for some fine lady. And the cut is small. It’s in the style you know I like, and you’re not in a rush to finish it.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re far too observant for a princess?” he demanded, biting back a smile. 

“Many times, with varying degrees of approval.” Belle set the book aside and came to observe him. He kept working; her nearness had long ago stopped startling him, but rather provided him with a sense of peace. It worried him, how tame she could make him. “Why are you making it by hand, and not with magic?” 

“Some things are done better with care,” he explained quietly. It was easy to charm any piece of fabric not to get wet or to never tear. But those spells would fade quickly with wear. If he put his true focus into it, he could give Belle a dress that would never rip, stain, or tear. That would keep her warm. That would be able to protect her from a few minor spells and a good amount of ill-wishing. It was the same effort that had gone into making her blue dress and her cloak, while the rest of her simpler wardrobe had been rounded out by magic. 

“You knew how to sew, before all of this.” Belle watched as he used the golden thread to create a tiny symbol; it briefly glowed and then faded into the fabric, another spell to keep evils away. “That’s why you spin. Not just to forget, but also because it’s familiar.” 

“You ask too many questions.” 

“Those are statements.” 

“Belle.” he gave her an exasperated look but she simply had a serene smile on her face, the sort that told him she wasn’t at all scared of him or his threats and it would be pointless to try. She stayed silent for so long he thought she’d perhaps forgotten this line of questioning, before she reached and picked up a length of the golden thread. 

“Why do you use this on me?” she asked and he watched her carefully. “It’s actual, real gold. And I’m just a maid.” 

“My maid,” he reminded her. 

“Yes, yes, forever and ever.” she didn’t bat an eye and his stomach gave a twist of the very matter of fact way she said it. Was it because she knew that he would never give her up? Or was it because she would never leave him? He couldn’t imagine it ever being the second. “Is this how you became rich? By selling this?” 

“No.” he plucked the thread from her. “I couldn’t do that until…. After my transformation. My thread wasn’t so fine before but it was still well known.” the bit of pride slipped into his voice at the memory. Coward he might have been, but at least he had made something of worth, something precious. 

“So you were a spinner.” 

“You speak to me so rashly,” he observed, without malice or warning in his voice. “I could turn you into a bug, dearie.” 

“We both know you wouldn’t.” Belle ran her fingers over the fabric, then up and over his hands. He shivered slightly at the feather-light touch. She had that same curious expression on her face that made him feel as though he was some ancient map or text for her to study and puzzle out. The idea that she could do that made him uneasy. “Tell me about it?” 

His first instinct was to send her away. Magic her to her bedroom and leave her there for the night, to see how she liked it. He didn’t want to speak about Milah and taint any moment of his time with Belle with the memories of her. And the idea of talking about his son to her… Well, that certainly hurt too badly to even consider. She knew about his mother, she knew that he had been abandoned. Some part of his past…. Could he tell her that?

“I learned as a child,” he said carefully. He was testing himself, to see how much he could share before the familiar panic rose up and cut him off, making him clam up. “I showed…. Promise. I honed my trade and talents as I grew, and eventually I was able to make a living.” it had taken him years to save up the amount of money Milah’s father demanded he pay for the chance to marry her, but he’d done it so gladly for the hand of the prettiest girl in the village. Milah had been less thrilled by the agreement. 

“It’s such lovely work,” Belle complimented, twisting a bit of thread around her fingers. She was still so close to him and there was something there in her eyes, something that looked like…. Wistfulness. He wondered what she yearned for. He wished he had the words to ask her. “How can I thank you?” 

“I don’t require payment,” he muttered, focusing on the skirt. It would be longer than her other one, thicker to protect her legs from the cold. 

“It would be fair.” she sat down beside him and he held so, so incredibly still as her fingers ran through his hair. It was as though she was lighting him on fire with a wild desire. Had anyone ever touched him like this? Then, like a summer breeze kissed the dawn, Belle’s lips gently pressed to his cheek. 

This wasn’t the sweet and chaste pecks she’d bestowed upon him, dashing by with a smile. This was something…. Something he didn’t have the words for. It was tender. It was breathless. It was a moment too long and somehow all too short. It left him sitting there with thread forgotten in his hands as she got up and walked out of the study with her head held high. It was the idea that perhaps - just perhaps - that the thing she longed for was….

No. He couldn't even bear the thought. 

With Belle gone, his concentration greatly improved. He was able to finish the dress in the night and then leave it in the wardrobe for her to find when she awoke. And indeed, at breakfast, she came bounding down the stairs with a grin, dressed in her new dress and her thickest stockings. He’d chosen a maroon color for the dress, thinking about how lovely she looked in fall. And she was no less stunning now. She paused before him and gave a little spin. His long still heart gave a painful thump. There was something so possessive about having her in his clothing. It was his way of showing everyone that she was claimed - she was his. He would protect her. He would clothe her. He would - he would - 

“Don’t be dirtying it now,” he ordered, then gestured for her to fill up his teacup. She did so with a smile and a blush and he thought he should sew her a real, proper gown. What reward would that merit him? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just have a lot of feelings about belle getting warmer clothes from rumple because you know that blue dress was not enough for the winter
> 
> and also how the hell magic works in this universe 
> 
> reviews are a kindness, thank you!!


	14. the world over with you and over again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys thank you for all the love and support on this fic i am having such a blast
> 
> i leave you to more pining and UST

The cold grew extra tiresome after a few weeks. Without the dazzling white snow to muffle the world, it just seemed extra grim. Belle, now properly attired, kept up her exercise by retrieving the firewood, but the pair of them slipped deeper in lethargy as the short days began to blur into one. Even his preparations for the dark curse couldn’t tempt him for more than a few hours at a time. Everything seemed so…. Bleak.

“This is quite enough,” Belle declared firmly one evening, setting aside her book. He’d noticed an hour ago that she wasn’t turning the pages with her usual speed, but now it appeared she was done entirely. 

“What is?” he was occupying his hands with spinning, but he was a thousand miles away, where his dark and horrible doubts marched double time across his mind. He was never getting Bae back. He was a weak coward. He was a monster. He was undeserving of love. He was never getting Bae back. 

“Someone has to be asking for a deal,” she insisted and he narrowed his eyes at her. Of course there was. Winter was the season of desperation, after all. “Why don’t we - you - go see? Preferably someone in the warmest climate possible.” 

The idea hadn’t even occurred to him. Why would it, when he was so content to wallow in his grief and darkness and misery? Of course Belle, the shining beacon of light, would want to go somewhere warm. And he was the Dark One, of powers untold and unmeasurable. He could use those very powers to take them to….

“How about we visit a lovely little bazaar?” he suggested idly, as though it was just occurring to him. “I am low on the venom of Agrabahn Vipers….” 

“I can be ready in a moment.” Belle was already off and running. Smiling at her, he shook himself out of his daze, changing into clothes far more suitable for the climate of the desert. He’d hardly had the chance to sort himself out when Belle was running back to him, in her lighter dress. She almost slid across the smooth floor - at the last second he reached out and caught her. She beamed at him. 

“Ready?” he asked dryly and Belle tossed her hair back. 

“Please.” 

The bazaar in the capital of Agrabah was a riot of smells, colors, and voices all fighting for dominance. Not wishing to overwhelm Belle after such solitude, he brought them to the quietest place he knew - a stall for rugs, which deadened the noise and sights. He took a breath when they arrived. It was a further distance than he was accustomed to and to bring Belle with him caused him more fatigue than he’d expected. Thankfully Belle was still there to lean on, already recovered and peering around. 

“A moment,” he warned her, holding her back from leaving the back room. “The last time I was here, I…. Kicked up a fuss.” 

“What did you do?” Belle looked almost amused. He almost smiled back at her, but then passed his hand over his face. He knew his appearance had taken on the tanned skinned and dark haired of an Agrabahn native. This way he could blend in with relative ease and wouldn’t have to carry the weight of his notoriety. 

He turned to look at Belle, sure that her reaction would be one of delight. After all, he no longer looked like the repulsive monster that he was. She could look at him and pretend she was a normal girl, in the company of someone like her beloved. Surely this would be her dream, to not have to take the arm of the vile and wicked Dark One, who hunted children and stole lovers away. 

Except she didn’t look thrilled. Instead she was observing him with a rather worried look, her bottom lip pulled taut between her teeth. Without saying a word - of happiness or anger - she held her wrist out for him. He looked at it for a moment, slightly baffled. Then he realized she was waiting for him to give her bracelet the customary twist and thus render her invisible. Chuckling, he took her hand and patted it. 

“No hiding you today.” 

“No?” Belle’s eyebrows shot up and there it was, the look of joy he’d thought he’d get from her earlier. 

“My association cannot put you in danger here.” he gestured to his new face. “You’ll be quite alright to walk with me here. No one will be the wiser.” 

“Oh.” seemingly satisfied with that answer, Belle took his arm and accompanied him out of the rug stall and out into the bazaar. 

He heard Belle’s gasp only because of his powers, such was the noise of the bazaar. He smiled, even as all of his senses were assaulted with the riot that was Agrabah. The spice traders had mountains of their wares, each a beguiling shade that masked the danger of a scorched tongue they all promised. Colorful fabric, beaded and gauzy, floated around him. Everyone that walked by was in some violent shade of the stuff, oranges and purples and a rainbow of color mixing and multiplying around him.

The sun beat down on them. He felt Belle turn her head up towards it, soaking it in like she was a flower long deprived it’s nutrition. He could smell the sizzling meat that the food vendors harked, mingling with the smell of unwashed bodies, perfumes, and the flowers that were cut and hanging around them. And everywhere, pressing against them from all sides, were patrons and vendors in almost equal numbers, haggling and dealing. 

It felt wonderful. 

Once Belle had taken a few deep breaths, he took her elbow and started to walk with her. She blended in rather well with all the other foreigners, but he didn’t want them staying in one place too long, in case something were to happen. And he did want to get his venom, lest she think that this trip was all for her. Never mind his three full vials at home. 

“Careful.” he pulled her aside as fire erupted in front of them. Belle gasped and shrank back against him, but it was simply one of the fire swallowers that showcased their tricks in the hopes of earning a few spare coins. Belle watched, entranced, as the man began to spin fire in circles around him and he smiled at her innate curiosity. 

“Do you think he’s ever burned himself?” she asked him, craning her neck to continue watching even as Rumplestiltskin gently pulled her away. 

“Anyone who deals in fire likely has, dearie.” 

“Remember when I thought you were going to burn to a crisp?” Belle’s eyes were suddenly searching his face with an intensity at odds with her light tone. 

“I told you it would take more than that to kill me.” and he remembered the way he nearly lost her and the blind panic. Belle continued staring at him, like she wanted to say more. Then she caught sight of something over his shoulder and she shifted to excitement. 

“Can I try those?” she asked eagerly and he turned to see the small, glazed balls she was looking at. 

“Ah.” he brought her to the stall. “Yes, I think you will quite like those.” he looked at the vendor, who was eyeing them skeptically. “Whatever the lady wants.”

“May I have five?” Belle asked eagerly and the vendor raised an eyebrow, then lowered it quickly when Rumplestiltskin laid several gold coins onto the counter. He bagged several of the small balls quickly and handed them over to Belle, snatching the gold. Belle was not aware of anything; she was staring in pure, unrestrained happiness at the bit of fried dough covered in syrup and seeds. She closed her eyes and popped one in her mouth. 

The sigh that came from her mouth hit him like a curse might. He’d never heard such a thing from her. Then, before he had a chance to recover, Belle had retrieved another ball and thrust it at him, like she meant to feed him. He obeyed without thinking and she placed the sweet treat on his tongue. He chewed almost robotically but was then surprised to discover just how good it was. Belle was already on her second, beaming. 

It took them twice as long to get to the venom as he would’ve done on his own but he didn’t mind it. Belle wanted to stop and marvel at every little thing, picking up trinkets and trying every vendor’s food. She flattered all of them and he watched with an impassive expression as she laughed and talked, effortlessly charming. He thought of her, wasted in his halls. But how could he ever part with her, especially now? 

He kept a careful eye on her as he purchased the venom. They were in at the seedier end and he didn’t want her to wander off and wind up with a cut throat. He needn’t have worried. When he turned around, Belle was kneeling in the dust, talking animatedly to a small group of children. Street urchins, by the look of them. She was looking at a much loved doll, a tender smile on her face. 

“They’ll rob you blind soon as they please,” he muttered as he knelt beside her, keeping a firm hand on his venom and gold. 

“Only because it is so difficult for their parents to care for them.” Belle rested her hand on one child’s head but still rose, like she sensed that now was not the time to talk to him about impoverished children. He took her elbow and escorted her away, doing his best not to think of the children in her star chart. 

The sun would set soon and he didn’t want them caught in the darkness. Instead, he took her out of the market entirely. There was a large ridge where they could sit undisturbed and watch the sunset, all brilliant reds and pink. It would be a welcome change from their slate grey view from the weeks past. 

Once they were safely out of view, he magicked them to the ridge. Belle didn’t bother to ask any questions; she’d learned a while ago not to. She simply sat down in delight and then reached up for his hand, tugging him beside her. Shifting carefully so that he didn’t crush the venom, he eased down so that their shoulders brushed each other. 

“Warm?” he asked her as Belle pulled her dress up slightly, exposing her knees. It was terribly inappropriate and made his mouth water to boot, but Belle was unbothered. 

“From the tips of my toes,” she said with relish, wiggling them. She’d divested herself of shoes a moment ago. “Now will you go back to normal?” 

“Normal?” he glanced at her in confusion and she looked at him, reaching up to touch his cheek softly. 

“The disguise. Or the spell. Whatever it is. Will you remove it?” 

He stared at her quite blankly. Why wouldn’t she want him to keep the image up? For once, he looked like a real man. Perhaps not the handsomest of men, as he hadn’t wanted to draw attention to himself, but it had to be better than the mottled skin and eerie eyes. After all, women had hardly looked at him when he was but a spinner. How could anyone prefer him like this? Feeling flabbergasted, he ran his hand over his face again and the glamor melted away, revealing his true self once again. 

“Better, dearie?” he was proud his voice didn’t shake. 

“Oh, much better, yes.” satisfied, Belle leaned back again and smiled at the sunset. “There’s my Dark One.” 

He watched the sunset from the baby blues of Belle’s eyes. 

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  


“You cannot keep doing that!” Belle’s indignant face appeared in the great room with their tea set. 

“Doing what?” he asked, idly reading the last terms of a newly signed contract. 

“Sending me to my room, or the study, or the library, whenever anyone arrives!” 

The cold began to ease as the days began to lengthen again. With the lack of snow blocking the mountain passes, visitors had an easier trek to the Dark Castle. He found himself dealing more and more as desperate souls came pleading to his doorstep. He’d taken to depositing Belle in some secure location before they arrived so that she’d be safe. He’d been doing since her arrival at the castle, but apparently this was one time too many. 

“It is for your own good,” he stated carefully, wondering if that would put her in a tizzy. He was correct in his thinking; Belle scowled as she poured them both tea and pushed his towards him slightly rougher than usual. 

“Be that as it may, I was in the middle of something. A something you asked me to gather!” she insisted and he tested the tea. He’d decided to bring back some spices from Agrabah and Belle was putting them to good use. “So if it’s ruined, it’s on you.” 

“The translations?” he asked and she nodded after a second, still disgruntled. He called them to the table, inspecting them quickly. “Flawless, except for being unfinished.” he handed her the scroll. 

“Well, I wasn't too mad at you to not finish it properly,” she muttered and he allowed himself to smile. “But I mean it! The people that come to visit, they’re not evil. Usually. I don’t need to be locked away!” 

“And what will you do, serve them tea?” he asked her skeptically and she shrugged, then brightened. 

“Perhaps. Greet them, show them in. It could make things easier, to have them see my face first.” 

“A human face,” he mused. It might put his supplicants at ease. And at ease meant he would be able to ply their wants and weaknesses from them all the quicker. He hated to admit she might have a point. “I’ll…. Consider it.” 

“Consider it.” Belle folded her arms, her eyes narrowed at him. “Can’t you make up your mind right now?” 

“Cheeky,” he warned her and Belle blinked, refusing to back down to him. He wondered if she ever would. 

“You get to talk to everyone. Why can’t I do the same?” 

“Plotting your escape?” he asked her sharply, his old fears rearing their ugly heads. Belle huffed and poured herself a second cup of tea. 

“You cannot believe me so stupid as to think that I could fool you. I’m bored, Rumplestiltskin. I want to talk to other people. I feel like I’m going screaming mad here,” she complained and he had to admit, she had a point. They had taken a few trips, but he’d preferred to stay at home. And even the tasks he set her to weren’t as interesting as they might be. He had sown the seeds for Regina to want to cast the curse, now he simply had to make sure that everything else fell into place exactly so. Desperately delicate work.

“Fine.” he sighed at the admission and Belle’s eyebrows shot up. “For the guests of little to no importance, you may greet them and make them feel at ease. After that, you’ll retreat. And at the first hint of danger—“ 

“I’ll be screaming your name.” Belle was beaming. He swallowed hard and gave a mute little nod. “I can’t wait!” 

He was already regretting this. 

Belle got a chance to test out her hostess skills a few days later. It was a poor widower coming; he eased the protective spells around the castle then magicked himself to where Belle was in the library, musing over some old text. She didn’t even jump anymore at his sudden appearance, which he oddly missed. She glanced up, eyebrows raised and he folded his arms, doing his best to be imposing. 

“You will greet the guest promptly,” he said haughtily and she smiled, shutting her book and setting it aside. She swept past him without a word and he went back to his task. At least if Belle was tasked with welcoming those into the castle, he would have more time to focus on the finer points of his plan to get back to his son. 

He gave Belle enough time to get the tea brewing and served. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to make a grand entrance, full of fire and brimstone, or to quietly observe. He decided to observe first. Then he might catch her doing something wrong and have a justified reason to send her back to her room where no one would be wiser to her existence and her continued importance in him. So he made himself invisible and went quietly to the main hall. 

“— and is there anything else I can get you?” Belle was in the middle of offering the old woman biscuits. She’d served the tea near the fire, where the woman sat and tried to get warm. 

“No, thank you.” the old woman clutched a cup of tea tightly in her hands. Not the set that he and Belle used, but a different one. He was oddly relieved that an outsider wouldn't be touching his chipped cup. “You’ve been too kind. I…. I wasn’t expecting someone like you in the Dark One’s castle.” 

“Most people aren’t.” Belle smiled as she busied her hands with her tea. “But my master is otherwise occupied. I’ve been tasked with making you comfortable until he can attend to you. And you’ve come so far, in such cold!” 

“The desperate do what they must.” the widow had dark, clever eyes that focused on Belle. "Surely you know something about that." 

"Not at all," Belle remarked smoothly, setting the tea down and going to get more wood for the fire. 

"You are here, aren't you? Clearly you made a deal with.... This beast." 

He watched as Belle's shoulders tensed. It was an odd thing to think about, how she'd arrived here. Of course it had been a deal, and one that he nearly forced her to take. What sort of choice did she have in the end? But it had stopped feeling like a deal some time ago. Now it felt like....

"I did make a deal," Belle revealed after a long pause. 

"And what did he make you give up?" the woman's tone was sympathetic but her words were cruel and her intent clear. They cut to his very core - he was not a good man. He was not an honorable man. But he had never, not as a spinner or as a sorcerer, forced an unwilling woman. But before he could make himself known and curse the hag to the ends of the realm and back, Belle had risen, fury written across her lovely face. 

"How.... Dare you." she was trembling with rage. "I should throw you out! To speak about my master so heinously. To even imply such a thing! He has never - and I mean never! - been anything less than a proper gentleman to me. Even more so than the so-called proper men who would've once courted me!" 

He stayed quite still as Belle's words washed over him. She was defending him and with strange vigor. The widow was blinking, taken aback by Belle's shout, but he hardly spared a thought for her. Belle thought he was a proper gentleman. Better than the men who would've once courted her. Of course, he'd met Gaston. It wasn't a lofty goal to reach. But still. 

"I know you may think that he is kind, but you are young," the woman tried to argue. "He has stolen you away, deprived you of everything. A marriage, children, a future. Surely that cannot be the actions of a fair man?" 

"There was a deal," Belle said firmly. "I was aware of the terms and I agreed to them. This was my choice." 

"Young women never have choices," the widow remarked sadly and Belle tossed her hair over her shoulder. 

"I have seen the corners of the realms. I have studied topics beyond my own belief. I have learned more than I could have ever dreamed. All this, because I chose to save my friends and family, my kingdom. I have made my choices. I will never regret them," she remarked, then stood, quite stiffly. "If that's all, I will take my leave of you. The master of the house will be with you shortly." 

Belle walked out with her head held high. 

The widow sat in her wake, clearly flummoxed. From where he was hidden, Rumplestiltskin suppressed a smile. Let her stew for a moment longer. He was going to take the time to remember the way Belle had defended him. When he felt that enough time had passed, he made a grand entrance full of smoke and dramatics. 

"Who calls upon me?" 

She had little to trade. He was tempted not to deal with her at all, given that she'd upset Belle, but her ask was simple. A small cottage on a tiny piece of land, enough for her to live out her days. She exchanged that for a few rough gems her mother had left her. He mostly did it because her landlord deserved an ill turn. 

He dismissed her and she went, cowering away from him. Once, it might have bothered him. But not today. Today, Belle thought that he was noble and worthy. That he was a gentleman. And that knowledge was like a talisman, the thought warming him all over even as he went to seek her out. 

"Done already?" she was in the study, inspecting something under a magnifying glass, still looking a little sour. 

"Yes." he set the gems in front of her. "What shall I make with these, dearie?" 

"I wish you wouldn't call me dearie," she told him softly, even as she gently shook the stones free from the small pouch. "It's what you call everyone when you're dealing." 

"What would I call you otherwise?" he questioned her curiously and Belle's lips twitched like she struggled against a smile.

"Belle works. Or dear, if you cannot part with it. Darling, perhaps. I promise I won't be picky. I just hate to imagine you angry with me." 

"I'm not angry with you," he said rather stupidly and Belle rolled the gems around in her hand idly. 

"What did she ask for then?" she questioned him rather abruptly. 

"Safety. Shelter." he watched her reaction. "What they all want, in the end." 

"What I wanted." Belle was apparently musing on this, still inspecting the stones with a little frown. 

"No," he corrected quietly, unsure of how to explain what made her so special. "Belle, you asked for the safety of others. Not yourself." 

"Does that make me any better?" she asked softly and he took the gem from her, a small blue stone precisely the color of her eyes. With a gentle twist of his hand, it became smooth and shiny, the faceted cuts now gleaming in the light.

"It makes you extraordinary," he stated quietly, then added after a moment of hesitation, "darling." 

He kept the stone in his pocket, just to remind himself of the day that she’d said such things about him. 

  
  


* * *

"Is it getting warmer?" Belle poked her head out from under her cloak, looking up at the imposing, impervious grey sky. "I don't feel like my toes are going to fall off. I think it's getting warmer." 

"Spring will be here soon," he agreed, with some relief. He was sick of winter. 

"Thank goodness," Belle said with vigor. He knew she was as tired of the dreary weather as he was. 

They were headed into the village together, atop their horses. He needed to do some business and Belle had begged to come along. The cold wasn't as pervasive lately so he had agreed and now the pair of them were headed off. He figured Belle could stock up on supplies while they were there. 

"It'll be a short visit," he promised her, as they rounded the bend and approached the small cluster of houses. "I'll just be speaking to the magistrate and the sheriff, dear. Don’t wander too far." 

"I never do. Have fun," Belle called, as she turned towards the market. 

It was not a short visit. One question turned into four, then into a raging debate. He was called to deal with problems, then argued with when payment was required. By the time he got everything sorted, it had been several hours longer than he'd planned and he had a headache that no magic could cure. 

"Belle," he called, walking for the market. Her bracelet would not allow her to stray beyond the bounds of the village, not while he remained here. But where had she gone? The booths and stalls of the market were long closed. The houses were shuttered against his visit and he didn't imagine anyone willingly taking Belle in. Worry mounting, he went to the edge of the village, where he heard shouting. 

He stopped in his tracks, taking in the scene. There was a small group of children playing and in their midst, not a head taller than most of them, was Belle. They were playing some game involving sticks and hoops and a small ball that skipped along the ground. There appeared to be two teams and they all jostled for space. 

They shouted with glee, their hot breath forming puffs of white as they ran. He watched in rising anger as one child elbowed Belle in the side, hard, but before he could turn him into a frog, Belle grabbed the boy about the waist and tickled him until they were both breathless with laughter and returned to their game. 

The children were about Bae's age, he realized with surprise. Not for the first time, he imagined how Belle might react to his son. Judging from the scene in front of him, she would be delighted. He thought of the four stars in the night sky at her birth and that strange fifth star, from a distant land and out of place. 

"Rumplestiltskin!" Belle realized he was there and gave a shout and a wave. At her words, the other children stilled and then drew together, muttering under their breath. 

"Having fun?" he enquired as she jogged over to him. She was sweating despite the cold and it beaded along her hairline. He dismissed it with a wave so that she didn't catch a chill and have it be the death of her. 

"Yes," she said promptly, catching her breath. "They're quite ingenious, coming up with games that can be played with so little!" 

"And what sort of game is that?" his son had always loved games. 

"Well, I'm not quite sure," Belle admitted. "I don't seem to have all the rules. And my understanding of the mechanics of it all is a bit lacking. But they enjoy it and I've appreciated the chance for some exercise. Did you wrap up all your affairs?" 

"Yes, after too long," he remarked and she smiled. 

"Well, I can return home. I'll just say my goodbyes," she promised then turned and jogged back for the children. They hung back now, evidently wary of her. He was sure their parents had warned them not to interact with anyone associated with the Dark One for fear of retaliation. Just like they had with Bae. 

But Belle was having none of that. She touched faces and brushed back hair, wiping away sweat and dirt with her own gloves, smiling and teasing each child. By the time she'd spoken to everyone, they were all grinning and laughing, and Belle was smiling as she made her way back to him. 

"The hoops," he found himself saying. "Do they break easily?" they were made of wood and poorly bound together. 

"Yes," Belle told him with a hint of surprise, tilting her head. "They do." 

He waved his hand and heard a cry from the children. Belle looked back sharply; apparently she trusted him but not too much, which he found oddly endearing. She shouldn't have worried. The cries were of surprise and delight, for now the hoops they held were solidly made and smoothly polished, rolling across the ground with ease. 

Belle smirked as she took his arm and turned them for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE THIS WILL ALL HAVE A POINT I PROMISE I PROMISE JUST
> 
> don't kill me for the jane austen level of slow burn


	15. and what you reveal only shows so much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am once again asking you all to take a journey with me where hence we fix canon timelines
> 
> plz enjoy this one friends!!!

Belle awoke the morning of her birthday with a surprising amount of glee. When she had been a princess, the day was heralded with a blast from a hundred horns, then celebrated with feasts and dancing. She was, however, no longer a princess. And last year, her birthday had gone mostly unmarked, given the events with the fairies that had happened so shortly beforehand and the solitude that followed. 

But this year was different. She had a feeling that Rumplestiltskin might have planned something. She might tentatively say that after this long, cold, gloomy winter they might be close. Or at the very least, friends. And friends did things together on their birthdays. Though she could hardly imagine what might await her, she hoped there was at least something. This year, there was no dramatic event overshadowing the day, no long lost mother to rip apart the fragile bonds between them. 

She pulled on her blue dress. It was spring, officially, and time to greet it as such. She bounded down to the main hall, eager to find what magical surprise awaited her. She skidded to a stop upon realizing that no one was there and nothing was waiting for her. Not Rumplestiltskin, not even their tea set. 

Well, that was fine. She could certainly brew her own birthday tea. That wasn't a problem. Perhaps he'd gotten distracted in the night, working on her surprise. She knew how easily he lost track of time. So she'd make them tea and wait patiently for him, sipping on the floral blend with rising expectations. 

Except he never showed for their breakfast and tea. Belle waited until it was cold and then cleaned up, not allowing herself to mope. She would go up into her library and read for a bit, just as she’d intended to. That way she didn't interrupt him but he knew where to find her, whenever it was ready. 

She spent the morning engrossed in a book, losing track of time until her stomach rumbled and she decided that she'd go for lunch. Lunch was good. Surely he'd be down for lunch. Yet when she reached the kitchen, there was a soup bubbling away and no Rumplestiltskin to be found. She served herself a bowl, now slightly miffed. If he was hiding, she wouldn't try to find him. She just couldn't believe he would really forget her birthday. 

Once she'd eaten and cleaned up after herself, she decided to take a walk through the grounds. It was spring now and she was determined to usher in warm weather and sunshine. She still, however, grabbed her cloak and fastened it tightly around herself. The warm weather wasn't fully to their mountains just yet. 

She enjoyed her turn about the gardens. They would do well once things warmed up. She could hardly wait for the riot of colors and smells, to be eating peaches while she lounged about and read on the grassy lawn. She could garden again and hang the laundry to dry on the line so that it smelled fresh when she hauled it all back in again. 

"Honestly?" she asked an empty castle, when it was still silent and still upon her return. Now properly annoyed, she huffed as she hung up her cloak and scrubbed the mud off her boots. Fine. If he wanted to ignore her, he could ignore her. She wouldn’t play his silly games. She didn't care in the slightest! 

Except for the way that her chest ached, ever so gently. 

She decided not to seek him out. Evidently whatever this was had to be far more important than her. The knowledge stung, a bit, but she pressed on. Tea for herself then and some afternoon reading. Then she made herself a light meal and focused her attention on the translations she'd been working on for him. Let it not be said she wasted a day. 

The sun was about set when she finally shut the book on her translations. She yawned, rubbing one bleary eye. She'd give herself a hot bath before bed and go to sleep early. That was the ticket. She was just rising from her chair when she heard the tell-tale sound of boots on stone and she looked up to see Rumplestiltskin standing in the main hall, as though this was completely normal.

"Hello," he said to her, quite calmly. She gaped at him for a moment but then recovered, smoothing down her skirts. 

He'd forgotten. Or perhaps he'd never bothered to remember in the first place. But either way, he had no idea it was her birthday. And why would he? He was an immortal sorcerer. She was a maid. 

"Hello," she replied back politely. She wouldn't show him how badly this stung. 

"What have you done today?" he asked casually and she narrowed her eyes at him. She wouldn't fault him for forgetting her turning another year older. But she certainly wouldn't allow him to chide her on her birthday either. 

"Tea. Reading. Inspecting the grounds now that spring is here." she hoped that might clue him in as to just what day it was. "And I've finished translating those runes from Arendelle. Is there anything else you need before bed? You didn't call on me once today." 

"No, no, dear." he waved a careless hand. "I've been frightfully busy." 

"You'll forgive me for taking my leave then." pride smarting, Belle gave him a curt nod and rose, halfway across the room before he called for her. 

"Belle. Wait." when she turned around, he looked almost nervous, twisting his hands and avoiding her gaze.. "Would you, uh, accompany me to the walls? There's something I wish for you to see." 

"Certainly." she turned to hide her smile as she went to retrieve her cloak. She knew there would be a surprise after all. 

He escorted her onto the large outer walls so that they were facing the darkest part of the sky. Belle glanced up at the stars slowly winking into view. They could use the telescope in his study to examine the stars and planets at any time. Why were they on the walls, in the cold? She drew her cloak tighter around her and stepped towards Rumplestiltskin, wondering what sort of gift kept him away from her all day. 

The kind that was absolutely worth it, she decided, when the burst of light and color exploded above them in a dazzling shower. 

The boom that followed scared her; she gave a squeak of fright and practically leapt into Rumplestiltskin's chest. His arms came around her protectively and she relaxed, staring in astonishment as the sparkling lights floated down from the sky, only to be replaced with another, this time green. 

"How amazing," she breathed and thought she could almost hear his amused smile from behind her. 

"They call them fireworks." 

"They should call them stunning," she declared, both fascinated by the way the fireworks set the night sky on fire and the fact that even though she was no longer frightened by the thunderclap that came with each firework, Rumplestiltskin had yet to let go of her. 

"Did you think that I forgot your birthday?" 

"Did you forget and then pull this together at the last moment?" she accused him and he chuckled. 

"No. But they're volatile things and require fine precision to set them off in the correct order. I spent most of my day trying not to blow off a hand." 

"Oh." she reached up to pat the arms that encased her, relieved to find that both still ended with the correct amount of fingers. "Then I suppose I should thank you, and forgive you for all my ill-wishing earlier." 

"It would be nice," he remarked and she turned her head to watch the spray of sparks, bright yellow. If she leaned back, she could feel his chest. And if she held her head still, she could feel his nose press into her hair, like he was smelling her. 

"Thank you," she whispered, for this and so much more. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


She thought that spring would bring happiness back into their lives, but even as the days lengthened and warmed, Rumplestiltskin stayed contemplative and morose, sulking around the castle and lingering longer and longer in his study each night. Belle wanted to ask the reason, but he didn't seem to be in the answering mood. So she tried to cheer him up, but without making it obvious. 

Tea didn't work. Most days, he only paused long enough to gulp down a cup or two then disappear again. There were no witty remarks about her blends or the spices, no laughter or lingering looks over the rim of his chipped cup. He hardly even sat down anymore and was silent when he did. 

She couldn't tempt him with food either. He rarely ate, be it Belle's cooking or the castle's. That wasn't unusual, given the fact that he seemed to not really need it. But it still gave Belle cause for concern since he appeared more gaunt than ever, dismissing her requests that he join her for a meal. 

Not even their evenings in the study and the library seemed to bring him any joy. Belle performed translations and copies, research and notes, but whenever she turned them over to him, he took them with a grunt and buried himself back in whatever he was working on at the time. 

She hadn't been able to draw him outside since the night of her birthday. But today was beautiful, all sunshine and balmy winds. If he wouldn't enjoy the spring with her, she would bring the spring to him. So she went to the garden, where the first tender shoots of green were poking through the damp earth. She reached down, touching the petals. 

Yes, she'd bring him beauty and see if he'd smile. 

She clipped the flowers and laid them in the basket, turning back to the castle. The sun was setting as she climbed up the stairs to his study. She paused at the top, realizing that he was speaking, standing over his desk with a candle and a worn, yellow shawl, quite unaware of her approach. He looked older than Belle had ever seen him, aged by the seriousness and the defeated set of his shoulders.

"Too many years to count, Bae. But I've counted every one."

The sadness in his voice was so deep and painful that Belle's heart stopped. This was obviously something so private, so intimate, that she shouldn't intrude. She knew that there were things he hid away from her by his choice. But she was already in the room and she knew from experience that trying to act otherwise would only upset him further. He hated when she pretended not to know things. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you were in here," she spoke, an utter lie if she'd ever heard one, but what she could get out. 

"Go away." his voice was flat; no malice, no anger, no anything. Broken.

"I'll just put these flowers down." she brought them to his desk, hoping that they could at least bring him some joy after all of this, whatever it might be. 

"Go away," he repeated tonelessly, putting out the candle light with his fingers and setting it away. She noticed that it was only melted halfway down; not the sort of candle he let burn on through the night. And there, beside him, was the shawl. She gently reached out to touch it. Soft, but with fabric a peasant might wear. Something from his life as a spinner. Something from before. 

"I'm so sorry. It was a remembrance, wasn't it?" she asked him quietly and he looked up, something flashing across his face. It seemed like fear. Or sadness. Or longing. But not anger. She thought of him, watching the village children play. The longing there. She had a theory, one that she'd kept in the back of her mind and refused to turn over. Now seemed as safe a time as any to guess. So she took a deep breath and asked, "how old would he have been?"

"Well, he's not dead. He's just lost," he told her, apparently shocked into honesty. Belle about took a step back, wishing that there was something below her to sit on. Her legs had gone startlingly numb. 

"Lost?" she asked faintly, sure she'd misheard him. How was one lost? But more importantly - he had a son? Her theory was correct? 

"Today is his birthday. I should be with him.... Celebrating." Rumplestiltskin ran a hand over the shawl, appearing to be lost in his thoughts and memories once more. "We had a chance to be happy together, but I was afraid."

"Maybe it's not too late," she suggested hopefully. She'd seen such a change in him since she'd arrived here. Obviously something had happened with his son, something that changed everything. He had been lonely. But he could be - no, he _was_ \- a good man under it all. They only had to find him. 

"I hope not." he had a strange expression on his face and he left the table, going to the wheel like she wasn't even there anymore. "No, my ending shall not be a happy one." he sat to spin and Belle knew she'd lost him. 

She left the study quietly. She didn't want to upset him at such a delicate time and she also wanted time to mull this information over. Alone. So she went to her room and locked the door, sinking down onto her bed. 

A son. Rumplestiltskin had a son. Who wasn't dead, just lost. But Rumplestiltskin himself was a few hundred years old - was his son immortal too? How else would he not have lost him to age years ago? And lost - as in, lost in the woods? Rumplestiltskin was the most powerful sorcerer of all time. Surely he'd be able to track his son wherever he was. 

Unless....

Unless where he was wasn't here at all. Belle sat up, going for the pile of books on her table. These were the ones of her own personal interest, for reading before bed and such. They had nothing to do with the research Rumplestiltskin had her compile. But there had been one volume....

"Ah-ha," Belle muttered in satisfaction when she found it. It was a thin volume, not so much a book as it was a collection of scribbles. But someone out there had taken to collecting the knowledge of different realms. It seemed highly theoretical - that there were realms other than their own that could only be reached by magical means - portals, beans, and if the rumors were anything to go off of, a strange man with an even stranger hat.

Belle sat back down in the bed, re-reading with a newfound focus. The book was vague on the hard evidence of things, but the basis was there. Other words. Where time moved differently. Where things weren't always as they seemed. Where there was no magic. 

Belle shut the book. 

No magic. Time moving differently. 

Rumplestiltskin's son - whoever he was - might be in a different world. And the means of getting there seemed to be few and far between. Might this be what they were working on? A way for him to get his son back? Well, Belle thought that a worthy goal of striving towards. 

She got up from bed and headed to the library. The best thing she could do for herself and this missing son was research. 

* * *

  
  
  


Rumplestiltskin said nothing to her about his son after the night in the study. But Belle noticed that there was now a door on the landing before his study. It was still locked. But Belle knew that in time it would open as well. The castle was only as revealing as it's master. 

Now knowing the root of his sadness and discontent, Belle felt comfortable pressing forward. She continued her normal, cheerful routine and found that he was back to joining her on her jaunts into the outdoors, even if he was still taciturn and somber. That was more than she could ask. 

They even resumed their walks to the village. Belle had stopped them when he had been lost, but now that he was back, she felt it was time to resume them. It gave him a distraction and gave her exercise, as well as the chance to talk to other people. Today's journey was with the excuse of needing some fabric for new drapes. Nevermind that Rumplestiltskin could summon it with a snap of his fingers or weave his own. Belle clung to her flimsy excuse and pulled him into the outdoors. 

When they reached the village, they split apart. He would go haggle and threaten death and dismemberment over the fabric, which would cheer him up. And she would go to the market and see if anything exciting had been brought in, which would cheer her up. It was a plan that suited them both well. 

Today, it was Letty who had the greatest surprise. Belle stopped at her stall, wondering if her eyes deceived her. It was a tiny bowl of the finest, freshest looking raspberries Belle had ever seen. She stopped to gape at them, as Letty smiled proudly. 

"How?" she asked rather dumbly. Not even the Dark Castle produced raspberries until the summer. 

"We've been trying something," Letty revealed with a little grin. "We’ve managed to build a greenhouse." 

"I'll take the lot," Belle said eagerly, reaching into her purse for the coins. Letty was one of the few people in the village who wasn't so terrified of Rumplestiltskin that she refused to talk to Belle. She was a few years older, married with a few kids. She and her husband sold produce and minded their children. Children who were, at this moment, poking their faces around their mother's skirt to peer at Belle. 

"I told you she'd be the one to buy them," whispered the middle child, a little boy with Letty’s nose and eyes. 

"Only because she'd the one who can afford them," hissed his big sister, which earned them both a smart tap from their mother. They scampered away, giggling, and Letty gave Belle an apologetic smile. 

"I'm sorry. If I've told them to mind their wagging little tongues once, I've told them a thousand times." 

"I understand completely. I used to get into trouble for saying things I shouldn't. Still do, in fact." Belle smiled. "Where's your littlest?" 

"With me, as always." Letty reached under the stall and produced a basket with a small baby fast asleep inside. "He is feeding every other minute, I'd swear to it." 

"Growing fast, aren't you little one?" Belle cooed, gently rubbing his stomach. 

"He'll be a brute soon, just like his father," Letty said fondly. "Is there anything else I can get you Belle?" 

"These will be wonderful." Belle put the coins on the counter. The amount was greater than what the charge would be and when Letty opened her mouth to say as much, Belle gave her a wink. "Buy the children a treat then. And let me know how your greenhouse works. Perhaps I can use your tips for mine at the castle." 

"You're too kind," Letty muttered, bowing her head. When she looked up with a smile, she seemed to be ready to say something else but froze, staring at a spot over Belle's shoulder. Then she dropped into a jerky curtsey. "Dark One." 

"Rumplestiltskin!" Belle turned in surprise to see him standing there, hands clasped in front of him. He looked rather sane - or saner - but still with a dangerous glint in his strange eyes. "I'm sorry, was I too slow?" 

"Rather, I was quick, dear." he strode forward to inspect Belle's purchase and Letty reached down, protectively gathering up her child. There was a flicker of annoyance on Rumplestiltskin's face but now Belle saw it for what it was - he wouldn't never hurt a child. 

"Raspberries." she produced them for him with a smile to distract everyone. "Won't they be wonderful?" 

"As is everything you get from here," he said with a thin smile and Letty bowed her head, muttering, 

"You are too kind." 

"Come along now," he ordered Belle, sticking out his arm. Belle took it and waved back at Letty, who looked a little stricken. 

In silence, they headed back for the castle. Belle was quite content with the outing. Rain clouds were gathering overhead so their pace was brisk but Belle knew if it really did start to rain, she'd get magicked back into the castle. For now, she enjoyed the walk. 

"Tea?" she asked when they arrived back into the castle. She set the berries down and went to get the pot. Rumplestiltskin sat at the table, watching her in silence until she poured them both a cup. 

"Do you like children, Belle?" 

It wouldn't do to drop another cup and chip it all over again. She kept a firm grip on it even as her hands trembled. She pretended to be thinking the question over, when in reality she had no idea how to answer this question. 

To say yes would indicate that she wanted them. And she did. Or she had, back when that had been the only goal in her life. But she'd taken a different route. That didn't mean she didn't think about it from time to time. What a child would be like. What a baby of her own would look like. But that was not going to happen. Not here. 

And to indicate that she didn't would be a lie and he'd well know it. He'd seen her running around with the children. He'd seen her defend Phillip - the baby, not the horse - and he'd told her about his own son. Did he want her to mind him if he came home? She was sure he was too old for a nursemaid. 

"I do like them," she said carefully. "I never had siblings so I made my own, so to speak. I enjoy them." 

"And do you want ones of your own?" 

Was he trying to make her jump out of her skin? 

"I wouldn't be upset either way," she stated, knowing she was walking a very fine line now. "I was raised with the expectation that my marriage and life would only be of value if I could provide an heir. With that.... Avenue no longer my path, I've found that a lot of satisfaction and reward comes from pursuing other things. Like my work, with you." 

She held her breath, unsure how this would go over. She hoped that it had answered enough of his question - she did want children, if not at this very moment. But that she was alright with never having them, as would surely be the case as she stayed with him. To her enormous relief, he simply took a handful of the berries and popped them in his mouth. She relaxed and did the same. 

"So you think children are a blessing?" 

She tensed. She thought they were off this subject. Well, she'd made it this far without inspiring him into a rage. Surely she could go a bit longer. 

"You know I do," she told him stoutly, thinking of baby Phillip. "And I know you feel the same. Now what is the point of this line of questioning? If you're worried I'll be jealous of getting your son back, I can assure you that's the furthest thing from the truth. And if you're worried I'll want to run away with some shepherd to have fat, happy babies, let me remind you that I gave you my word. I won't break it. Children are dear and precious yes - but I won't give up the safety of my family already living just for the chance of children who are not." 

She hadn't intended for her speech to sound so impassioned, but it had. She had half risen out of her seat and now she struggled to sit and look dignified, her cheeks burning. Nothing she'd said had been a lie. She wouldn't break their deal for some what if. And if his son came home, Belle would try to be whatever he needed. Whatever they both needed. 

Rumplestiltskin didn't say a word. He was simply watching her, eyes glinting, still as marble. She wanted to fidget and squirm, but she forced herself to keep his gaze held with hers. Let him see what he might there. Then, slowly, he blinked like he was coming out of some spell and licked his lips, as though suddenly nervous by her words. 

"My…. Apologies." was it just her or did he sound a little strangled? "As always, I.... Had concerns." 

"And did I put them to rest?" she asked stoutly and he gave a little chortle. 

"Of course you did." 

"Good." Belle plucked the ripest, loveliest berry from the bunch and placed it in her mouth, glad to be done with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts and feedback and feels are all welcome in the below grey box. friends?


	16. there is home and then there is you; is that not the same?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay SO another belle chapter but only because i found this plot from the comics and i unexpectedly liked it and decided to revise it. SO! not my stuff, just my spin :) enjoy!

"Belle! Where are you, dear?" Rumplestiltskin called and Belle stopped where she was, pulling on her cloak. 

"Here," she called back, struggling with the fastener of her cloak, sighing. "Why can't I ever get this thing on?"

"Belle!" he appeared in front of her, holding a scroll in one hand and a dark, sloshing vial in the other. "Oh, there you are. And so near the front door. Planning on leaving me?" his eyes gleamed. 

"You know I wouldn't do that, Rumplestiltskin." she rolled her eyes at him. Always teasing, he was. 

"No, certainly not. At least not while wearing that bracelet." he glanced down at the thin, beaten chain. Belle never bothered to take it off now, given that she could go anywhere in the castle or the grounds as she pleased and that it couldn't be tarnished or broken. 

"Don't be so dramatic. You said we'd be going to the market today." she narrowed her eyes when he suddenly looked guilty. "Unless you forgot?" 

"The potion, Belle," he insisted after a long pause. "It's at a delicate stage, I shouldn't try to wander off." 

"Rumplestiltskin!" she chided and he blinked. 

"Fine." he walked over to her and gestured for her to raise her wrist. She did so and he pressed a finger to it. She felt the metal cool for a moment and then he stepped back. "There. It'll allow you to get to the village and back. No further, or if you wander off, I'll know," he warned her pointedly.

"I made a promise to stay with you forever. And I hope that someday you'll realize I'm a woman of my word." she gave him a serious look, though her joy was bubbling up. All the way to the village? By herself?

"Well, we'll see about that. Now, don't catch a cold there." Rumplestiltskin reached and adjusted the hood over Belle's head, his fingers ghosting over her forehead lightly and Belle remembered what it was like to have his fingers in her hair. "The forest path is quite damp. We wouldn't want an illness interfering with your daily tasks, would we?"

"Definitely not," she said sweetly. "We both know this place would fall into disrepair without me." she stepped out into the cloudy day, glancing back to wave at him. Rumplestiltskin was leaning on the door, a tiny smile on his face. 

Belle's walk to the village was more like a skip. She was so delighted at the prospect of him trusting her enough to go alone that she hardly noticed that the market was much more crowded than usual and full of faces that she did not recognize. But surely that was normal now that it was spring and travel was easier. 

She ignored the whispers behind her back that started upon her arrival, how all the faces turned towards her but when she looked back, they turned away. Most of the village had stopped staring at her, so it was the newcomers who took up the gossip, apparently with gusto.

"I'm tellin' ya, that's Rumplestiltskin's servant!"

"You're daft. She's far too pretty. Don't you know he turns everything around him ugly?"

"Morning, Robert." Belle arrived at Letty's stall, manned by her husband today, setting her basket atop the stall with a tired smile. "Do you have any of those small yellow potatoes today? The golden ones?" 

"Oh, yes! I have some." he ducked to retrieve a small bag and offered her it. "Not very many. But you can have the lot!"

"Don't worry. I only need a couple." she smiled as she pulled out the money needed. 

"But I was here fir--" a portly man started to insist but Robert pushed him to the side, hissing under his breath. 

"You'll have to come back later!"

"Don't you know who that is, you idiot?" another customer asked him, in a none too hushed whisper. "You bother her, the Dark One'll get you!"

"Robert, I didn't mean to...." Belle started to apologize and he gave her a weak smile, thrusting the bag at her. 

"No, really Belle. You take them." 

"Thank you, sir. You're most kind," she told him, still bothered by the way she was treated. As though she was the one who would turn them to slugs. But her musings were cut short when she heard the rumble that sounded like a caravan of wagons and the yelling of a crowd. She tried to stand on her tippy-toes and see over the crowd, but not for the first time her height put her at a disadvantage. "What's that?" 

"More wounded soldiers." Letty had come back to the stall, her baby on her hip and a child in each hand. "Seems like the toll from the ogres will never end. They come here because we're one of the few places it is still safe." 

"Oh, those poor men," Belle muttered, watching as the wagons were pulled to a halt, the men stumbling around them, thinking of the last time she’d seen such a sight, on the battlefields at home. "The ogres are horrible. Wait, is that..." Belle started forward, distracted by the sight of a familiar face, with sandy blond hair. She lurched forward, forgetting the potatoes entirely. "Stop! Please! Where did you find that man?" 

"You know 'im?" the soldier that was nearest to the man looked at Belle in surprise. She looked down sadly at the cart. The once tall and strong man on it was now pale and ragged, oozing blood from a large gash on his leg. 

"We grew up together," she revealed, still stunned. Samuel, the son of one of her tutors. They'd laughed and chased through the gardens together as children, but once he'd grown into a young man, he'd gone off to fight like all the rest. "I.… I thought he'd been killed on the battlefield years ago." 

"We're coming from the ogre camps. Hard to know how long those men had been there," he explained and the figure between them gave a sudden groan. 

"Samuel, do you recognize me?" Belle took his hands and gave it a squeeze. "He's so pale... How bad are his wounds?" surely a cut in the leg wasn't a death sentence. 

.

"Seems like his leg was cut by something enchanted." the soldier gave a little shiver. "The wound has gone all funny and won't heal. Though it's the fever that'll do him in if he doesn't get the chance to rest up in a clean bed."

"Are there no doctors traveling with you?" Belle asked desperately, squeezing Samuel’s hand and he shook his head. 

"None with any knowledge of an enchanted wound such as this. And, at the pace we move, we don't have the luxury of stopping to look for one." his tone was genuinely apologetic, which made Belle like him all the more. 

"How far is the camp?" she asked, hoping against hope for a good answer. She knew she wouldn't get it when he winched. 

"Good several days' hard ride.... At least. Sorry, miss. Better say your goodbyes. I don't think the likes of him will last long." they both looked down at the feverish, shivering man on the wagon and Belle made up her mind. She'd stopped the ogre wars to save her people. And didn't he count as one of her people? 

"I can help him,"she stated with grim determination. "May I borrow a horse?" 

The soldiers clearly thought her mad, but they allowed her to lash a horse to the cart. Everyone around her was whispering and she was sure that the information that the Dark One's housekeeper was rescuing wounded soldiers would stir up a whole new mess of requests, but she didn't have time for that. With each second she wasted, Samuel appeared to take a turn for the worse. 

"We're almost there, Samuel," she tried to encourage him when they hit a rut in the road and he cried out. They were near the walls - any moment now - they'd be within the protective enchantment and - "Rumplestiltskin, I need your help!"

He appeared in a puff, worry written all over his face. But upon seeing that she was unharmed and what she was pulling behind her, it became an expression of trepidation, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Please tell me it doesn't have anything to do with the cart of rotting flesh behind you."

"Rumplestiltskin, he's badly wounded. He may die," she begged him, hopping off the horse to go plead with him. 

"I seem to remember that you went out to buy food, yet you return with a stranger. Do you expect me to eat him?" he was wasting time to needle her, to mock her soft heart. Belle folded her arms.

"He's not a stranger to me," she revealed lowly and saw his surprise. "And your magic is the only thing that might be able to heal him. Please, we can send him on his way as soon as he's better."

"And why should I assist this man? What do I get out of it?" at least now his tone had taken on a serious edge and he didn't seem quite so gleeful. 

"Nothing," she said frankly. "But it's the right thing to do."

He looked at her for a long moment, the both of them in a standoff of wills. She straightened her spine and jutted out her chin, feeling like crossing her arms might be a little bit too far in her defiance of him. But Belle would not give first; she was just readying herself to give him another verbal lashing of how horrible he was being when he gave a little shrug and stepped aside to let her pass.

"All right. Bring him in, then. I won't heal him, but I won't snuff out his breath either. If he dies, he dies." his glare was flinty and Belle wanted to rage at him, but she knew this was better than nothing. "We'll let fate decide, shall we? She's never been particularly kind to me, but she is capricious. Who knows what might happen, dear?" 

Belle did not give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear when he magicked them into one of the empty bedrooms. At least he deposited Samuel in the bed so she didn't have to worry about moving him. Well, magical and mighty sorcerer she was not, but Belle did have some knowledge of how to tend to wounds. She got rags and clean water, as well as thin, watery broth from the kitchen.

If he just held on a little longer, she could do research and help him live.

"We're going to fix you up, Samuel," she assured him, once she'd cleaned and bound the wound, then went to the library to wrangle every book she could find on enchanted weapons. It was what she was reading now, and what was worrying her so. "Though the books say even a small wound from an enchanted weapon can be difficult to heal...." she trailed off, frowning, and tried to distract herself with giving Samuel some of the broth, dibbling it into his mouth. "That's right. Just a sip."

The sun slid down the windows behind her. Belle had missed tea with Rumplestiltskin, but that didn't matter. She worriedly flipped the pages of the book, failing and failing to find the answers that she was looking for. She didn't even know what had caused the injury in the first place! Not for the first time, she silently cursed Rumplestiltskin. 

"Be...Belle?" when a dry voice croaked from beside her, Belle about jumped out of her skin. It was Samuel, staring at her like she was a ghost. She leaned forward, eagerly clasping their hands. 

"Samuel! You're awake!" joy filled her. Someone from home, someone who knew her. She just had to keep him alive.

"Is.... Is that truly you, Belle?" he rasped and she gave his hands a squeeze, tears filling her eyes at the sound of his voice. 

"Yes, it's truly me. You’re safe now. The ogres can't harm you any longer," she whispered and he relaxed against the pillows before looking around with pain-hazed eyes. 

"But.... This place…. Where are we?"

"We're in the Dark One's castle," she told him carefully and his reaction was about what she would expect; he almost bolted upright in alarm. 

"The Dark One? I don't understand. Are we…. His prisoners?" fear filled his handsome face and Belle shook her head.

"No." Belle soothed him, easing back back into the pillows. Then she thought it best to give him the truth and amended her statement. "Well, not exactly. You see, he was the only one who could face the ogres. You left so early in the war and you know how we needed reinforcements badly. But no one came to our aid. And then.... When it was almost too late.... Someone finally did. Rumplestiltskin. 

"He promised to protect our people from the ogres. But in return he wanted a servant for his castle. So I volunteered to go. My father and fiancé were against it, of course. But, in the end, I know I made the right choice to keep our people safe. But now, this is my new home." she gave him a bright smile, gesturing to the room. It certainly didn't look like a terrible place, but she saw the fear still on his face.

"Belle, we're not safe here, we have to leave." despite her reassurances, Samuel still seemed agitated, trying to get out of bed. Belle stopped him, worried about his leg.

"Samuel, it's all right. Rumplestiltskin gave me his word that no harm would come to you," she promised. "Trust me, you'd be dead otherwise. Now, try to drink this, and tell me how you were rescued from the ogre camps. Or did you escape?" she handed him the broth and he took a tiny sip, then a larger one when he seemed to realize she didn't mean to poison him. 

"Well, it's kind of a long story," he said faintly. 

"Tell me everything. Did they make you work or keep you locked up?" perhaps if she knew what was happening in the ogre camps, she could make a case for Rumplestiltskin to stop them. Magic came with a price, but certainly someone would be willing to pay this one?

"A little of both, I guess. You just never knew what would happen on any given day." Samuel seemed uncomfortable discussing this and Belle had to remind herself - it was likely the worst experience of his life. Who was she to make him relive it? 

"Wait.... Before you go on, this wound on your leg, it has all the signs of one inflicted by an enchanted weapon," she interrupted. "Do you remember what sort of blade it was? I need to know if we're to find a cure for you."

"I don't entirely remember. My head is still.... Foggy." he sat back, evidently exhausted and gave her a wane, if not still charming smile.

"Of course it is. I'm sorry." Belle nodded and patted his hand. "I'll keep going through the books on magical metallurgy and we can talk about it later, all right?"

"That sounds like a good idea." he laid back and closed his eyes, slipping into slumber with apparent ease. Feeling better for him being able to wake and speak, Belle turned back to her book with renewed vigor. Samuel wasn't going to die. She wasn't going to lose anyone else, she promised herself. 

"Belle!" Rumplestiltskin appeared in the doorway with a thunderous expression and Belle looked up; she'd lost herself in the book and hadn't noticed it was the middle of the night. She rose and went to join him, steering him out of Samuel's room. "I'm glad you aren't too busy with your guest to at least show your face when I call for you… although I must confess, I wouldn't have extended him my hospitality if I'd known how long it would take him to die," he sneered and she poked him hard in the chest. 

"Samuel's not going to die. In fact, his fever broke," she informed him smugly and he heaved a great sigh. 

"Thanks to your expert touch, no doubt." she heard the sarcasm but chose to ignore it. "Although fevers have been known to return. Hopefully this little drama will soon be played out. In the meantime, the castle is yours, Belle. I have some business to attend to tonight and shan't be back until first light."

"Then I suppose we'll see you in the morning." she wished that he wouldn't leave, but who was she to tell him to stay? "Good luck, doing whatever it is you do." he gave her a funny look and tapped her cheek before he was gone. Taking a deep breath, Belle returned to Samuel's room, sighing in relief that he was still fast asleep. "Oh good. We didn't wake you."

She couldn't sleep, not when the time to save Samuel was so short. But…. She glanced around the room. Samuel had brought along a pack. Perhaps she’d find something in there to help her figure out what had injured him. She knew it was a long shot. But she had learned from Rumplestiltskin that trust was to be earned, not given. So she opened the bag and pulled the items out, frowning when she saw what it contained. 

A crude map of the castle, clearly drawn by someone who hadn’t gone beyond the foyer and the main hall - all the other schematics were rough and off. Belle flipped to the next page and felt her heart jump into her throat. It was a drawing of a black and twisted dagger, with Rumplestiltskin’s name on it. And finally, a list of valuable objects, some here in the castle and some elsewhere in the Enchanted Forest. Belle quickly stuffed all the items back in the bag before Samuel could wake up. 

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was all a mistake. She wanted to believe that this was Samuel, the one from her childhood. The one who was kind and funny, if not a bit rough. One who wouldn’t try to sneak into the castle with nefarious intentions. She could keep turning this over, but she decided not to. She would make herself tea and focus on treating Samuel. If he survived, she would ask him about the things in the bag. She left her patient to go to the kitchen, still reading her book while she made tea with one hand, book in the other.

"Don't worry, Samuel. We're going to heal that wound. But first we have to figure out what sort of weapon made it." she was talking to herself, but it was oddly soothing, especially when she had so many thoughts turning over in her mind. She turned to walk out of the kitchen, then realizing that there was movement in her peripherals. She repressed a shriek, about to call for Rumplestiltskin, when she realized that it was only Samuel. But Samuel, upright? "Samuel! Your leg.... You can walk!" she gasped, trying to slow her racing heart. 

"Belle." he came over to her, setting down his bag and grabbing her hands. To reassure her or stop her from running, she wasn't sure. His eyes were wide and bright, his smile easy. He didn’t seem to be in any pain. "I suppose it's time I told you why I'm really here." he let her go and reached inside his bag, drawing out a strange, small box with a red gem gleaming atop it. For some reason, the very sight of it made Belle uneasy. "The truth is.... Your father sent me here to rescue you." 

"What?" Belle's head was spinning. "But you were traveling with a convoy of soldiers…. And your wound... You're telling me it was all a lie?" she drew back to give him an indignant look. Why the lies? And why the map of the castle and everything else he'd brought with him - he wouldn't need that to rescue her, would he? 

"I'm sorry about my deceit. But it was the only way I could get inside this castle," he said openly and Belle was aware of how tall and broad he was, compared to her. Would she be able to resist him, if he tried to take her? "And now that I'm here. I'm going to imprison Rumplestiltskin forever! The vessel I hold in my hand is capable of ending his reign of terror. And once it does, you can finally return home."

He looked so boyish, so eager. Belle wanted to sit down; this was all too much. Why, after a year and a half, had her father sent for her now? Why would Samuel, who she hadn't seen since they were children, be the one to rescue her? And most importantly, did Rumplestiltskin deserve a lifetime trapped inside a strange, cryptic box? She thought of the fire demon, how he’d protected her. She thought of the waterfall and the sunset over a desert and all the moments of laughter shared between the two of them here. She thought of the way that he looked at her and the way she felt when he had her pulled into his chest. 

"But.... I made a promise," she stated slowly, turning the thoughts over in her mind. "I'd be betraying him. It would be wrong." and what was her day like, if not filled with time with him? She didn't want to give up her life of learning and travel with him, back to a loveless marriage and endless duty. That wasn't what she wanted anymore. She wanted something more and something more started with Rumplestiltskin. 

"Wrong? How many people has the Dark One wronged? How many lives has he destroyed with his evil?" gone was the boyish expression on Samuel's face; now he looked like a proper man, with proper fury. Belle shrank back, but he hardly noticed, caught up in his anger and vision of what could be. "If you helped me capture him, you would be a hero, Belle. All I need you to do is tell me where I can ambush him. When he returns from his mischief, I'll trap him in this box, and then the Enchanted Forest will never have to worry about the Dark One again. And neither will you."

Belle could only stare at him with what she hoped was a blank, impassive expression. Behind it, her mind was ticking steadily. She had spent over a year with Rumplestiltskin and had learned a thing or two about lies and tricks and deals. She was not the girl she'd once been, who needed a mirror to find evil in a man. The way he was looking at her, the terrible expression on his face, one fueled by greed...

Belle made her choice. 

"You're right," she declared and triumph gleamed in his eyes. "I'll show you where to go. Hurry! If you wait for Rumplestiltskin in his private chambers you'll take him completely by surprise." she rose to lead him back towards the kitchen. Samuel scrambled to gather up his things, striding after her. 

"What's the rush?" he demanded, as Belle ushered him into the kitchen. 

"You want to be well hidden before he returns, don't you? We can't take any chances," she said briskly. "Through here." she gestured to the pantry, well stocked, and connected by a tunnel to the outside. She'd discovered the shortcut - or the castle had created it for her - last summer so she didn't waste time bringing in the things from the orchard and garden. 

"The pantry? Are you planning to feed me first?" Samuel was trying to joke, but she saw the hunger in his face and not for food.

"Rumplestiltskin's sanctum has enchantments all around it. Going through the pantry is the best way to avoid them," she assured him. "Trust me, I've learned a thing or two about outsmarting the Dark One while living in this castle." and apparently, outsmarting men. Samuel followed her into the path, which was rather long and winding.

"Are we almost there?" Samuel complained and Belle stopped. The door was a few feet ahead of them and she took a deep breath. This was her choice. She'd made it now, for better or for worse. 

"Yes, just through there." Belle pointed to the door. "Now — you go ahead of me — and I'll make sure this bar falls back into place. We can't leave any clues about what we're up to." she pressed herself flat against the cold stones, her stomach feeling like it’d bottomed out. Samuel looked at her for a long moment.

"Thank you, Belle, for your bravery." he stepped forward and touched her chin, Belle struggling not to flinch away. So close, so close. "This plan couldn't succeed without it." 

"I know it," she whispered and then pushed him through the door and slammed it behind him. The moment it shut, she heard the booming as the entire castle locked down to protect her, as it always did when Rumplestiltskin left. 

"Belle? What...?" Samuel called in confusion. "This isn't a sanctum! I'm outside, damn it."

"I know that, too," Belle said sadly, feeling more alone than she ever had. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes to stop the tears.

Samuel banged on the door furiously. "Belle, have you gone mad? What are you doing? Let me in!"

"Samuel, you need to leave. Right now," she told him, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "If Rumplestiltskin finds you out there.... I saved your life once. I can't promise that I'll be able to do it again. He's going to be especially unforgiving once he realizes what you intended to do to him." she was angry with Samuel, yes, but she didn't want him dead. And that was what she imagined would happen when Rumplestiltskin found out the danger both of them had been in.

"But how can you do this to me? We've been friends since we were children!" he yelled and she squeezed her eyes against the pain that sparked in her chest. "Don't you want to come home to your father? He misses you so!" 

"I made a promise. And I'm a woman of my word." tears were slipping down her cheeks now at the mention of her father. Hadn't she done all of this to protect him? "Besides, Rumplestiltskin may be the Dark One, but he doesn't deserve to be tricked like this. And he certainly doesn't deserve to be trapped in a box for eternity."

"Belle! Please! Let me in! BELLE!" he roared and she wiped away the tears, strengthening her resolve. 

"Goodbye, Samuel." she turned, fully intending to head up the stairs and cry herself out on her bed when she realized she was not alone in the corridor. Rumplestiltskin stood there, watching her. 

She hadn’t been startled by him in a long time, but tonight she was. She opened her mouth to speak, to say something, or anything, but there were no words. He was just staring at her, also completely silent. He wasn’t dressed in his travel clothes and Belle wondered if he’d ever even left the castle. 

"Well, well, well..." he muttered, giving her a tiny round of applause. She'd think it mocking, if not for the look on his face. One of surprise. "What an opportune time for me to return home. I had the chance to see some of what transpired with your friend."

"Rumplestiltskin, I'm sorry. I didn't--" she started automatically, but he cut her off.

"That's quite all right, darling." he materialized the box into his hand, inspecting it with the ever familiar glint of a new toy. "As it happens, I've had my eye on this little trinket for some time. Never was able to get my hands on it.... But now your compatriot has delivered it right to me."

"What about Samuel.... What will you do to him?" Belle asked worriedly. The shouting on the other side of the door was gone now and the silence worried her. 

"Don't worry, I won't kill him. I promised you I wouldn't, and I am a man of my word." he promised her and Belle had a sudden, odd flash of a murky location. "I'm merely sending him somewhere…. A bit less comfortable."

"Thank you," she said softly, unsure if it was for sparing Samuel or for saving her yet again. Rumplestiltskin took a step towards her, so that they were nearly touching; his head tilted and his eyes flickering with some otherworldly emotion. 

"I suppose I should be grateful that you stopped him from relegating me to this terrible fate. I don't imagine there's much room to stretch one's legs inside this box," he joked, but with a serious expression on his face. His next words were much softer. "I'm quite touched by what you did."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I didn't throw Samuel out just to save you. I did it for the people of the Enchanted Forest," she informed him quietly and watched as his eyebrows jumped up in surprise. 

"Oh?"

"I wanted so badly to believe Samuel's story, but something about it didn't make sense from the beginning," she admitted. "And when he wouldn't give me a proper answer about what he'd been through, I went through his things. I soon discovered it wasn't a coincidence that I found him in the marketplace. I was just a means to an end. Samuel had a map to this castle and a drawing of your Dark One dagger. That's when I realized.... He was probably a mercenary. He came here to seize your dagger so he could control you with it. He and his men intended to use you to plunder the Enchanted Forest.” Belle was making assumptions now, but she was fine with that. “There was no way I could let that happen. So really it all went much beyond your well-being."

"I see." he still had that queer, closed look on his face, like he didn't dare show her what was really on his mind. But Belle thought she had an idea. She didn’t even have to fake a large yawn and a stretch. 

"I think that's enough excitement for one night. I'm off to bed," she told him and he bowed his head in acknowledgment, moving aside. "But first, one question.... After everything that's happened tonight, do you finally trust me?" she took a step closer so that they were chest to chest, watching him struggle to stay still. "Never mind. I already know the answer." slowly, as to not startle him, she stretched up and pressed a long, slow kiss to his cheek before brushing past him with a smile. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews are the best ever!!!


	17. the instinct within is well worth following

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay!! we're back to my boy! enjoy!!

So. There was a clear and present problem in Rumplestiltskin's life. That clear and present problem was sitting across from him, a delightfully adorable furrowed brow on her quizzical face. She was refining and reviewing her strategy for her next attack on Rumplestiltskin's small, black chess pieces.

She was a talented player, he could not deny her that. He had suggested chess in the wake of the Samuel incident as a way to interact with her but not too closely. He thought that it would be easy - a few quick moves and he'd have her beat. But no, instead she was holding her own and a few times he'd had to hastily move pieces before she could claim them.

Perhaps some of it was because he couldn't stop thinking about her and that was rather distracting. He kept sneaking glances at her and then hastily looking down, thunderstruck by the realizations that kept hitting him now that the vile Samuel was gone and the threat to both of them had passed.

She had defended him. Protected him. To someone that she knew, to someone that she'd likely loved. Samuel might have been Belle's suitor in another life. Or certainly represented the idea of one. Yet Belle, given the chance for freedom and happiness, had instead chosen him. The beast. The coward. The captor.

It was enough to make anyone's head spin, but especially his. Why had she done it? Why had she chosen to throw Samuel out? She had said it was for the good of the forest, for the people he would've been forced to pillage and plunder. But there had been a way to trap him. She could've freed herself. But she'd said that he hadn't deserved it.

"There," she said with satisfaction, moving her castle out of danger. He nodded absentmindedly at her move, sure it was a lovely one but he was rather focused on recalling the feel of her lips pressed to his cheek. It had been only a breath away from his lips; if he might've turned his head at the last moment, would she have granted him one?

No one had ever done such a thing for him, at least that he could recall. Certainly not his mother, who abandoned him. Or his father, who saw him as a burden and a chore. Perhaps the kindly spinners. But not his first wife, or Cora, or anyone who had ever done a deal with him. They would've all leapt at the chance to imprison him, to see him turned into a monster for their own bidding.

Belle was the most extraordinary soul.

He glanced at her again, pretending it was to try and gauge her reaction as his fingers twiddled pieces. He'd have to make a move soon or she would think he'd gone soft in the head. So he picked up a pawn and moved it at random, leaving Belle to puzzle over his motivations. Good. Hopefully she wouldn't realize there were none.

He just wanted to stare at her and marvel at what a rare thing she was. How could she not hate him? How had she upheld every end of their deal, despite everything he threw at her, and done it all with such grace? How could she set across from him, sometimes catching his eye and looking away with a blush and a smile? It didn't make any sense. It shouldn't make any sense. Yet here she remained.

"Belle," he said softly and carefully so that she looked up from her thoughtful ruminations. "I never properly said thank you."

"You don't have to." she moved her knight. "I know you'd do the same for me."

"I would," he muttered. He would never doubt that. He'd never left the castle that night, knowing good and well what he'd never leave Belle in any sort of danger but darkly curious to see what would happen. Of course, he'd expected to catch her in some sort of escape plan. Instead, she'd shown him that she was above reproach.

Above all, he could trust her.

That was the scariest thought of them all, the one he shied away from. He had never felt trust. Not even Bae, though that was because a father never truly trusted his son to stay out of trouble and no matter how long it was, he would always think of his son as a young boy. Everyone else had wronged him. Betrayed him. But then there was Belle.

"Checkmate," Belle declared, three moves later and he snapped out of his musings to stare at the board in astonishment. How? How had he not noticed what she was doing? It had been under his nose this whole time. Of course, he'd spent the last twenty minutes thinking about how her hair shined and her eyes twinkled and the way that her mother's pearl necklace sat at just the right length to draw attention to her pale neck.

"Well." he vanished the board with the wave of his hand, unsure if he was embarrassed or impressed. Belle, to her credit, didn't gloat. She just sat across from him and smiled very, very smugly. He glared until he couldn't and then softened as she stood and stretched.

"And on that very, very high note, I believe I will retire for bed," she told him, eyes sparkling. He nodded and watched as she left the study then called out, unable to help himself.

"Belle, wait, I--"

"Yes?" she asked, turning around with an innocent look. He opened and closed his mouth several times helplessly until she softened and smiled at him. "I know. Me too. Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin."

"Goodnight, darling." he sat down, feeling very foolish indeed.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Summer!" Belle burst from the castle with more gusto than should be possible. She spun, her skirts flaring out around her prettily. He followed, with a rather lazy, indulgent smile. The sun was finally shining. The air was balmy and warm, with the promise of it growing hot later in the day. Bugs buzzed around them and everywhere was the smell of flowers and pollen.

He still believed that Belle was fall incarnate, but he loved the sight of her in summer too. She very clearly enjoyed it, judging by the bright smile on her face and the way she practically danced down the path towards the gate. She had been excited for the warmer weather and the promise of what it brought, namely her beloved fruit and a chance to read in the garden.

Today they were off on another deal, this one with some duke who wanted to commission a portrait of the woman he'd been engaged to and lost. Rumplestiltskin wondered how the man's current wife felt, but decided that wasn't his problem. And he was bringing Belle along because there was a grove nearby that, if the wind went through just right, seemed to be singing.

"Alright now," he chided her when she almost tumbled face first into the tulips for trying to smell them. "Let's focus Belle."

"Why?" she asked with a cheeky smile. "I don't have to focus, you are -- oh!" this time she had well and truly tripped, her shoe caught on a crack and sending her careening for the pavement. Rumplestiltskin, heart in throat, froze her in an instant. Belle remained immobile, a foot or so from splitting her chin on the ground. Well, he couldn't have that.

He maneuvered himself so that he would be able to catch her, arranging himself carefully so that while he took no liberties with her, she would certainly fall into his arms. Then he freed her and Belle collapsed into him, braced for an impact that was simply him. She looked up at him, wide eyed and surprised as she had been that day with the curtains.

"Are you alright?" he murmured and Belle glanced around, evidently startled to not be hurt in any way.

"Of course." she blinked a few times then gave him a slow smile. "I.... I'm fine. How did you catch me?"

"Luck," he lied, though he couldn't say why.

"Mhmm." Belle's eyes were crinkled with a knowing smile. "But you've made your point. I'll be more careful from now on."

"Thank goodness," he muttered and then righted her. Even when she was back on her feet, Belle still held his arm. Relishing the feel of her closeness, he snapped his fingers and took them away.

The client was pompous and arrogant, which made Rumplestiltskin sneer. But he paid his price, a very old and rare spellbook that should include some of the information on how to break even the grandest of curses, like the one Rumplestiltskin was trusting Regina to cast. Every curse could be broken.

He left with the book and his hidden Belle, the pair of them walking along the banks of the lake. When he returned Belle to her normal, visible state, he gave a startled burst of laughter at the look on her face. It appeared as though she'd sucked on a lemon, so sour it was.

"I have a question," she told him, not even bothering to address his mirth at her expense, which only served to amuse him more. "Do you plan for the things you give people to backfire, or do we humans just do that ourselves?"

"Whatever could you mean?" he asked, still chortling.

"I'm sure that portrait made the duke very happy," she remarked, nose still wrinkled. "He got to see his dead love again after all these years. It sounds so wonderful. But how could he not see how upset his wife was over it? Surely it's just going to lead to more misery than it's worth down the line?"

"It might," he agreed with a shrug. "Oftentimes the very thing our heart wants most can be a two headed viper, if you will."

"You may have a point," Belle remarked thoughtfully and he snorted.

"Of course I do. I am the Dark One after all."

"And the Dark One promised me singing trees," Belle said gayly, twirling in the sunshine. "So where are they?"

"Just ahead." the grove was just up ahead, full of dappled sunlight and flowers. It looked like a place one might kiss a sleeping princess and wake her from her curse, just like all the stories said. But this was no fairy tale.

"It's lovely!" Belle cried and let his arm go to run towards the trees. He smiled at her, as she drew away from him and disappeared. He kept his measured pace, wanting her to have a moment of peace.

“Belle?” he called, when he didn’t hear her excited chatter. He took several steps forward rather rapidly. She was just too awestruck to answer? She was stunned into one of her rare silences? Or….

The sight that greeted him in the trees nearly drove him to his knees.

“Belle!” he lurched forward in panic. Belle was lying amidst the flowers, her hair strewn about her and the faintest, thinnest trail of blood from between her lips. Blind rage overtook him - she was hurt. She was injured - was she dead? He cast a frantic spell, realizing that her damage was internal, blood pooling and slowing where it shouldn’t from an attack to her head. He raised a finger, about to heal her and put her to rights in an instant when all of the sudden there was a prickling on his neck and he went still, a blade now pressed there.

“Told you he’d fall for it,” said a slurring voice and he gritted his teeth as he looked up at the face of the Sheriff of Nottingham, bloated and drunk as always. Behind him were other men, all of them looking worse for wear in mismatched garb and smelling like a distillery. “She’s how we’d get to him.”

“Are we going to get the gold then?” asked one man rather stupidly and Rumplestiltskin bristled. Gold? Gold was the reason for all of this? They were risking Belle for _gold?_

“What do you want?” he hissed and the sheriff adjusted his sword so that it dug deeper into Rumplestiltskin’s neck.

"You let Robin Hood go. You were supposed to make him pay and you let him go!" rage contorted the sheriff's face into an ugly expression. "Now he has everything. A wife. A son. I've lost it all because you got soft and couldn't do what you said you would do!"

"You better hurry up," he ground out, the rage rising. Every moment they fought was a moment longer that Belle suffered and they’d be forced to pay for that. "I believe I'm running out of patience."

"Now you'll pay," he panted, eyes over-bright. "We've been tracking you. First, I'll kill the wench while you watch. Then I'll steal everything you own and I'll stand over your body. First you, then Robin Hood."

"Is that all?" he could feel his grip on himself slipping; he tried to hold onto it for Belle's sake. She wouldn't want him to do this. But Belle wasn't here; Belle was suffering beneath him. He tried, but then the sheriff raised his foot and there was a flash deep from his mind, of kissing a boot.

"Maybe I won't kill her first." the blade was sharp and he felt it break skin. He could not be killed but he could still be hurt. "Maybe I'll get that time from her yet. Pity you've ruined her for me, but she's so pretty it might be worth it yet."

And then he lost it.

The sheriff was first - in a flash, he was thrown back and crumpled against the tree. Around him, men tried to flee, but that wouldn't do. They had hurt Belle. Now it was time to pay. That was fair, wasn't it?

“Thought I'd gone soft, eh?" he growled, raising his hand. The sheriff clawed at his throat, the air slowly being crushed out of him. "You should know better than that dearie. Guess you are as thick as you look."

"I-- I--" the sheriff gasped and Rumplestiltskin grinned savagely at him.

"Yes, you'll die. And your men too." he heard the whimpers from the men around him. Not so brave when they faced his wrath, now were they? "You'll die screaming like a pig, begging for your life." 

With a flick of his wrist, the bones in their bodies contorted and the grove was not filled with singing, but screaming. It was everything to him - this! This was where he belonged! Inflicting pain and suffering, to make sure that no one ever dared challenge him again. He felt their lives leaching out, their blood running into the ground. 

The sheriff lasted longer than he would've thought, but in the end, he too succumbed to his injuries. Breathing heavily, Rumplestiltskin looked around the grove at what his fury had wrought. Bodies littered the ground, including -- 

Belle. 

His anger evaporated and he rushed back to her side, gathering her into his arms. She was limp, her skin pale and cool. He raised a trembling hand - he was not a healer. He was a monster, the one who inflicted the torture. He had always struggled to heal and Belle was undoubtedly the most important thing in this realm. 

He held her close. There were things for this, at their home. He closed his eyes and brought her to her room, placing her in her bed, then went running through the castle to find what he would need to help her. Wands, potions, and more blankets. She was cold. So cold. Why was she so cold? 

Belle didn't wake, even when he had healed all the injuries. He sat at her bedside, at a loss. He hadn't even realized tears were dripping down his cheeks until they dropped onto his hands, clasped tightly with Belle's. He felt as though there was a physical wound in his chest, cracking him open and bleeding him dry. 

"I'm sorry, Belle," he whispered thickly, leaning forward and pressing their hands to his forehead. "I'm sorry I took you, I'm sorry I lied to you, I'm sorry I'm such.... A beast. You deserve better. You do. But I'm too weak to give you up. I.... I need you Belle. Please, please, stay here with me. Please Belle. Just.... Please." 

He stayed by her bedside through the night hoping to see her lovely blue eyes open and at some point, exhausted from healing her and getting his revenge on the men who'd do this to her, he fell asleep upright in his chair, his fingers still interlocked tightly with Belle's and snoring gently. 

"Rumplestiltskin?" 

He bolted upright at the sound of Belle's voice; faint and weak but still there. She was sitting in the candlelight, hair mussed and a very confused expression on her face. She was staring at their hands like she wasn't quite sure what to make of it and he leaned forward to touch her, hardly daring to believe she was real. 

"Belle." tears pricked his eyes and he struggled not to show her. "How are you feeling?" 

"Like my head was split in two." she touched it with a wince. "What happened?" 

"A, uh, branch. Fell right on you," he lied and she blinked. "I did the best I could, but healing was never my strongest talent." 

"Well, I'm sure you did wonderfully." she patted his hand and he looked at her, still unable to forget his mute terror at the way she'd seemed so close to death not that long ago. "Have you been worrying over me?" 

"Yes," he said honestly. She meant to be teasing, but he still couldn't believe that she was alright. 

"Oh, Rumplestiltskin." to his great surprise, Belle lifted her arms and brought them around his neck, carefully but firmly dragging him down beside her on the bed. "I told you I'm not going anywhere." 

"Belle, I--" he wanted to scramble back, to get out of this situation, but Belle was insistent. She settled him beside her and then laid her head down on his chest, humming in contentment as she arranged the blankets around her. 

"There," she said drowsily. "Now I just need to rest and...." but a moment later, she was asleep again. 

He looked down in astonishment at her. He hadn't held someone like this.... Had he ever? Beside Bae? Had Milah ever let him? And yet, Belle was here, cuddling into his chest like he was the comfiest thing she'd ever felt. He carefully placed his hand on her shoulder, securing her to him. Then, with the other, he gently stroked her hair. 

What a contrast it was, her smooth, silky hair and his hands. His claws, nails blacked and cracked, how did they deserve to touch a thing so fine? Her, beautiful and kind and oh so fragile. This was why he never wanted to let her go. If he lost her....

He fell asleep again to the smooth rhythm of Belle's chest rising and falling. 

When he awoke, his first thought was that he was a spinner again. In his small cottage, with his wife pressed against him. Bae would be up soon, he thought blearily. But at the moment, he was warm, and he had a soft woman in his arms. He pressed his face into her neck, hoping that there would be a few more minutes of peace. 

Two small hands were stroking his hair, nails dragging along his scalp. He smiled and pulled her closer, relishing the way goosebumps rose along his skin at each pass. It was pleasurable - the most pleasurable sensation he'd felt in a long time and something in him stirred, something that was long forgotten. 

"More," he croaked, when the petting stopped. There was a giggle and he paused. Milah never giggled. 

His eyes snapped open in a panic. The realizations hit him rapidly - not Milah, but Belle. Not a cottage, but a castle. Not a wife, but a maid. Not his bed, but her's. 

He practically levitated himself off the bed. Belle gave a small huff as she lost her balance against him. He stood against the wall, heart racing. She certainly looked better. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy again. Her eyes were bright and sparkling and she was watching him with clear amusement. So she was better. That was a relief. But he had spent the night beside her. That was.... Less of one. 

"Good morning," she said cheerfully. "I'm feeling much better." 

"Yes -- Good -- I--" he stammered and Belle got out of bed. 

"Thank you for saving me again," she told him, turning her back on him so he could try to put himself back together. He felt frantic. What if he'd said something to her? What if he had taken a liberty she was not ready to give? But Belle was tying a robe around her and looking back at him over her shoulder, an eyebrow quirked. "Tea?" 

"Yes," he stated faintly. Belle smiled and disappeared out the door. He ran a hand over his head, blinking in confusion at what had just transpired. 

Whatever it was, the idea of Belle as his wife, at them sharing a bed willingly.... He wasn't sure he wanted to sleep ever again. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


"Round and round we go," he muttered to himself, spinning the bottle in his hand. "Down and down the rabbit hole..... Where we go, I do not know.... Round and round we go...." 

How was he going to get Regina to cast the curse? He had spent years setting the stage for her to do so. He’d guided her, practically from birth, prodding her this way and that until she’d be so hurt and lost that it would seem like the only choice. But there were also aspects to do, and to put into place. Yet he couldn't figure it out. One roadblock led to another which led to another which led to another which....

He wanted to give up. This was Bae. It was Bae. It was all for Bae, it was always for Bae, his Baelfire, a fire snuffed out, gone and gone and gone and-- 

He stopped, putting the bottle down and resting both his hands against the table lest he shatter the damn thing. He needed to focus. He needed to get himself together. It did no one any good for him to let himself wander down the path of madness. He'd succumbed to it too many times before. It did no one any good, lest of all him. 

He needed to focus. He needed to focus on Bae. Bae was what mattered. 

He looked over his desk with a critical eye. Random items were strewn everywhere. He'd thought that it would be helpful, when he ran into another problem, to bring all the items into view. That way he could try to string together some plan to barter them or use them or trick someone, somewhere, somehow. If he could just.... 

But it was no use. There was only the vast and wild madness, the failure of his son, and bleak darkness in his future. He would never win. He would never succeed. He was a failure - he was nothing. He had all the power in the world and still, here he sat with a curse that would never be cast and a son that he would always lose, over and over and over and --

"Enough!" he roared, clasping his head. If he could hold it tightly enough, then the voices would stop. The jeering cries would halt. All the doubt and pain and anger would fade away. He could force it to be silent.

But it wasn't. The voices were getting louder and louder, calling him weak. A coward. A pathetic spinner who couldn't protect his son. Who gave that son up. Bae, screaming 'papa'. It played on repeat, drowning out everything. He cried out, blinded by the rage. 

All he'd ever known was pain. All he'd ever had was pain. A mother who abandoned him. A father who hated him. A wife who thought him pitiful. A son who had rejected him. He was detested, hated, mocked, and scorned. And why should he not be? When had he ever proven himself worthy of love or companionship? When would anyone ever care?

Monster. 

Beast. 

Cripple. 

Coward. 

Crocodile. 

_Papa._

He put his head in his hands, unsure if he wanted to rage or cry. Either way. He wished it would stop. He wished it would all just stop. 

There was no way out. There was no end for this torment. He had done this to himself. He deserved it. He deserved the pain. He had been the one to turn away from Bae. He had been too scared. The most important thing in his life and he'd given it up for this miserable, wretched existence. For this? 

He should plunge the dagger into his heart. Perhaps that would do the trick. He never could, but he liked to dream. He would always be scared of death; his father made it seem like the worst thing in the world. And it was the unknown. What had he done to redeem himself? Where would he go after here?

Beggar. 

Fool. 

**Bastard.**

He sank down to the ground, the voices overwhelming him. They were reminding him of everything that he'd done, everything that he'd failed to do. The bad in him, the ugly. The unwanted and the unloved. The monster. 

But then....

Something soft wrapping around his neck. Gentle, caring hands stroking his skin, warming him. He leaned forward blindly, seeking whatever this comfort was. He came to rest against something soft and warm and he was cradled there, still feeling the emotions within him spinning out of control. 

Gradually, he came back. The voices receded alright, allowing other sounds to reach him. The sound of a lilting voice, crooning ever so quietly in his ear. It was a little melody, the same one that he'd heard before. He clung to the familiarity of it, let it drag him back to the present, back to some peace.

"Lora-lay-lo, lara-lay-lie, lay-lo, lay-lo, lie-lie….” 

Belle. It was Belle. It was his Belle and she was on the floor with him, cradling him to her and humming as she stroked his hair. He held onto her like he would be lost in a storm without her. She was the only thing real. She was the only thing that mattered. 

Did she just radiate a clarifying light? Was that how she did this? To push away the darkness, his darkness, she had to overwhelm it. To drive it out. And when she held him, everything else faded away until it was just Belle and the way it felt to match his breathing with hers, their chests rising and falling in tandem. 

"I.... I...." he wanted to explain to her what this was, but she was tracing circles on his back and it felt so good to just let it all go. To wrap himself up in her. How had he ever survived without her? How could she alone bring him back? What magic did she possess? 

"I know." she was still rocking them back and forth. "I know, I know." 

Eventually, it seemed like solid ground came under him again and he was able to look up, to see Belle. Her expression was one of concern, with those big blue eyes and her lower lip pulled up in worry. He was overwhelmed with the idea of leaning in and kissing her, to see if that would stop the voices for good. 

"Belle," he said helplessly and she patted his cheek, her hand lingering. 

"You looked like you needed a hug," she said quietly and he stumbled to his feet, bringing her with him. He knew he should push her away - the voices in his head were screaming for it - but when she was so close, he could hardly hear them at all. 

"I can't do it," he whispered, gesturing to the desk and the mess of objects. "I can't figure out how to get him back." 

"It's alright," she promised, squeezing his hand. "Let me help." 

To his surprise, he did. He let Belle study his scribbled notes. He let her muse and grumble over things, picking things up with a frown and setting them back down. Once he realized what was happening, he reached for her and caught her hand. 

"Belle." 

She looked up with a raised eyebrow and he struggled with the right words. What could he say, when she was the only redeeming thing in his entire life? The only person he could trust with this. The only one he trusted with anything. Then her face split into a smile and she reached across the table to grab his hand. 

"It's nice that I got to save you once too." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just me out here writing the scenes i wish we got in canon 
> 
> reviews are blessings upon me my friends


	18. rage at the world, for it is cruel and will never listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i....... have no words. enjoy my friends.

Belle had been in the Dark Castle for almost two years and she'd yet to not be amazed at the strange and wonderful things that Rumplestiltskin brought back. Today was another such marvel and Belle stared at it, wondering what it might be. At the moment, it was just a huge box in the middle of the great room. 

"A.... Cannon?" she guessed thoughtfully. Rumplestiltskin, behind her, snorted. 

"Guess again, Belle." 

"A statue?" the size would mean it would be a large one. 

"No." 

"Oh, I don't know." she threw her hands up in frustration. "A wishing well?" 

"Finally, a game Belle isn't good at," he remarked wittily and she turned to face him, folding her arms. "Now what would I do with a wishing well?"

"Make a wish," she told him as though it should be obvious. 

"And what would I do with a cannon?" his eyebrows flew up. She smirked at that. 

"I'm sure you'd have a few ideas." she gestured to the box. "Will you open it now? Please?" 

"Yes, before your guesses really become outlandish." he walked over to the box and tapped it, so that the four walls fell away. Belle eagerly looked inside to see --

A harp. 

She automatically took a step back and looked at Rumplestiltskin warily. She'd also learned in her time in the castle that even the most innocent looking items could be dangerous. She still hadn't forgotten the music box that never stopped playing. 

"What does it do?" she asked with trepidation and he smiled. 

"It's not cursed, dear." 

"So really, just a harp?" that changed things. She took a few steps forward and reached out to gentle pluck the strings. Music had been the one thing she'd never excelled at. Between the books and the studying, the memorization of laws and of court systems, she hadn't had the time to pick up the harp or piano. But she'd always enjoyed it.

"Do you play?" he asked softly and she shook her head. 

"I studied some theory," she told him, admiring the finely carved wood, now a golden hue. There were flowers and little birds carved there, a delightful pastoral scene. "But never any practice. I was.... Well, there were other things to learn. But I would've loved to. Do you?" 

"No." he went to the other side of the harp. "But.... I've picked some things up." 

"Like what?" she looked at him, between the strings. He smiled as he ran a single finger along the strings and then music began to play, as though a ghostly harpist had sat down for them. Belle clasped her hands and watched, entranced, as the strings quivered on their own and the most beautiful notes played. 

"Did you ever learn to dance?" his tone was different now. But everything was different now. It had been since two nights ago when she'd found him slumped on the floor, muttering and ranting, evidently in need of comfort. Belle wasn't sure if she'd made any sort of difference, but she liked to think she had. 

Because lately, he was looking at her like she was the sun. And she wasn’t sure what she was going to do with that.

"Yes, I did learn to dance." she smiled at him. "How was I to impress suitable candidates for marriage at a ball if not with my fine dancing?" 

"Mhmm." he looked unimpressed with that but he still held out his hand. 

"Can you dance?" she asked him in surprise as she took his hand and gasped as he swept her into a grand spin. 

"I told you Belle, I've lived many lives." he brought her to his chest and they began to turn slowly about the room. "I've picked things up." 

"Dancing and the harp." Belle's heart was fluttering and not from the exertion from the dancing. "What else are you hiding?" 

"Many things," he muttered to her hair. Once, he’d been scared to touch her. Now, they were dancing. "Many, many things. And you can't imagine how dark." 

"I think you have some light ones too." tentatively, she reached up to place her hand on his neck. That wasn't the way of the dance. It wasn't proper. But it was what she wanted. She wanted to feel close to him. 

"Only you Belle." she felt his nose press against her temple and she smiled, as they turned once more. He was a lovely dancer and she liked the way it felt to learn into his chest. It was not how this dance was done. But Belle liked their way better. 

Two, three, four turns around the room. Belle was imagining herself in a grand dress and Rumplestiltskin in a fine suit, in a large ballroom. The other attendees would stand against the wall, silent and watchful. None of them dared to even speak to him, but Belle knew him. She didn't fear him. 

_She loved him._

The realization left her breathless. Thankfully, Rumplestiltskin was leading and all she had to do was continue to lean against him, lost in her thoughts. She shouldn't love him. All conventional sense told her that this was a bad, bad idea. For one, he was still the master of the castle. And she was still bound to serve him, for the safety of her family and people. 

Then there was the fact that he was, by her estimations, a few centuries older than her. And immortal to boot. She was a second of his life, a blip in the otherwise long years. She'd be here and gone before he even realized it, a memory soon enough. And she would grow old where he wouldn't. She was a pretty, young thing now, but she would become an old lady soon enough to him. 

And the biggest thing that occupied the worry in her mind - Rumplestiltskin was.... Well, Rumplestiltskin. Notorious and dangerous, and for good reason. Belle saw him at his best, of course. When he told her about his son. When he brought her presents for no reason other than to see her smile. When he healed her of a head wound and spent all night at her bedside, just to make sure that she was going to be alright. 

But she had also seen the worst of him. She knew that he could be raging and manic. That he was cruel and calculating and manipulative. She'd made the mistakes of counting on his goodness when it was much more consistent to count on his darkness. Most of the realm thought he was evil or at the very least, a beast. And they would be right on some accounts. 

The problem was that Belle didn't care. She knew that logically, some part of her should shy away from him. From his temper and his past deeds, from the fact that everyone who looked at her thought that she was some ruined woman, tormented by a horrible owner. Yet somehow, improbably, she didn't care. 

They always said she was odd. 

Belle watched his face as he spun her about. In the right light, his skin almost looked normal, warm and flushed like hers must be. And his hair, wild and curly as it was, now seemed somewhat tamed. His eyes, flickering down to her and then away again when he realized that she was staring. 

No. Despite it all, despite everything, she loved him. She loved him as him, and that was simply it. 

The music from the harp faded to an end and the dance slowed, though Rumplestiltskin didn't release her. Distantly, Belle was grateful that the music had ended at all, given what usually happened with the things Rumplestiltskin brought home. But her heart was racing, as she carefully threaded her fingers into his hair. 

"Rumplestiltskin," she muttered, looking at his lips and wondering what it would be like to taste them. 

"Belle." he took a step back, looking mildly alarmed. "I should.... I should.... You need to clean the harp and put it away. I don't have any need for it." 

"Of course." she bobbed her head automatically. Then he was gone and Belle wasn't saddened by it; she needed time to think over her newfound feelings. She wandered back to the harp, brushing the strings just to recall the music. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Don’t test me, dearie,” Rumplestiltskin growled at her and Belle stood her ground, arms crossed. 

“I’m not testing you,” she stated firmly. “I am simply stating a fact. You not liking said fact is not a test.”

“You are pushing it,” he warned her darkly. “And you know what happens when I am pushed beyond.” 

How had they gotten here, Belle wondered in frustration. 

Right. 

It had started with the fact that she’d been outside when he’d wanted her to be inside. Belle had been enjoying the sunshine and a bowl of berries when he’d found her in a staggering temper, demanding why she hadn’t finished up the documentation of rare artifacts in the Enchanted Forest. When she’d politely and kindly reminded him that she had in fact done just that and had left the list at his workstation, he’d sulked away. 

Then she’d made them a sweet, fruity tea when he’d wanted a spicy tea. He’d refused it with a scowl and she had asked him with some concern why he preferred a specific blend today when he had never shown a preference for it before. He had told her that she was lacking in her housekeeping skills lately and then stalked away in high dudgeon. 

She’d given him space, trying to figure out what had set him off. Usually she’d discover the cause, but this time she hadn’t. And when she’d brought his food and dessert up to the study in an attempt to make him smile and please him, she’d found it thrown against the wall in a fit of rage. 

At that point, she’d told him, waspishly, that he was being rude, childish, and out of line. That if he wanted to pout, that he was welcome to do it without dragging her into it. And that she refused to play into his little games. And that he should know by now that he could shout and glower all he wanted, she was never going to be scared of him. 

Which led to this. And apparently ‘this’ was him about to prove to her just how deadly his temper could be. He was stalking towards her, eyes dark and lips pulled back. In all honesty, he reminded Belle of the night he’d come and stole her away, made a deal that had led her here, to all of this. 

“Go on then,” she encouraged, refusing to budge. “Show me. Show me how vicious you are, oh powerful Dark One.” 

“Is this a game to you?” he asked from between gritted teeth. 

“I know it’ll be hard to believe,” she responded with her own anger, “but I do care about you. I want what’s best for you. And when you are upset - which you clearly are! - I want to find a way to make it better. Now please. Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

“It is you,” he spat. “Day in and day out, I sit here and I try to outsmart the whole damn world, Belle, and you do nothing!” 

Belle held herself very still. She wanted to rage and fall apart, but she knew better than that. It would only give him what he wanted. The best course of action now, the one that would lead to her not being turned into a roach or something otherwise small and scurrying, was to not let him see even a flicker of fear. Someone had to stand up to him. Someone had to tell him that enough was enough. 

That at some point, this had to end. 

“I do a lot, but I’m sorry you don’t appreciate it,” she responded quietly. “If there’s something more that I should be doing, you could always tell me.” 

“I don’t want you to do more,” he yelled, throwing his hands up. “I want you to…. To….” 

“To what?” she cocked her head to the side. “Please tell me if I’ve upset you. Or if you’re just simply upset.” 

“Get out of my sight,” he stated, lowly. When she didn’t move, he resorted to yelling. “Get out of my sight!” 

“No.” she stayed where she was. He picked up the tray she’d bought the food in on and for the quickest of flashes, Belle wondered if he meant to strike her with it. But she knew him, and she knew better. For all of his temper, he would never raise a hand to her. Or, at the very least, she had to trust that he wouldn’t. 

He stared at her, eyes flashing. Belle stared back, trying to show him that she was calm, unaffected by his temper tantrum. Then he dropped the tray and turned back to the workstation, his shoulders still up near his ears. For the last time, he ordered her, “go away now, little miss Belle.” 

She didn’t start shaking until she got back to her library. 

A good nice sleep allowed her to rise in the morning and feel a bit more grounded. She got herself dressed and ready, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She would give him some space. She would go about her day and when he was ready to talk like a grownup, she would go to him and ask him what had made him so horrible. 

She bet it had to do with his son. In the end, it always did. She could tell he was frustrated with the lack of progress, but he was also the one who had told her that she had to be patient. That these things took time. That he had been working towards this for more years than she could comprehend. She didn’t feel that it would be wise to give him his own advice. Something told her that it would be received poorly. 

Breakfast, with two pots of tea. One fruity, one spiced. She wouldn’t be making any wrong steps this morning. Then she sat to wait for him patiently. When he appeared, it was clear that he wasn’t expecting to see her. He jumped and then looked rather guilty for it, clearing his throat and avoiding her eyes. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded and she looked at him and then at the two pots and cups. 

“Tea,” she told him, as though it should be obvious. 

“I thought I made it perfectly clear last night that I do not wish to have your company.” 

“For how long?” she folded her arms. “A day? A season? Forever? I am not un-aging and immortal like you. Ignore me for too long and I may fade to dust before you pull yourself out of this sulk.” 

“Belle!” that was apparently enough to shock and horrify him; he turned to look at her and Belle took the opportunity to get up and cross the room, catching his arm. 

“Won’t you please tell me what is going on?” she asked him urgently. 

“You should want to cast me out,” he muttered in return and Belle opened her mouth to remind him that this was indeed his castle, when he carried on. “I thought you’d never speak to me again, never be able to look at me. I convinced myself you would look at me with hatred and revulsion and--” 

Belle hit him. 

It was a gentle swing, and at his shoulder. Nonetheless, it was a good smack, one that she’d intended to bring him back from the dark places he seemed to go when he got in these sorts of moods. Her intention worked, as he went silent and stared at her with a stunned expression. Belle didn’t have a plan of what she was going to say, so the words started spilling out without her being able to control them. 

“It was a fight! Just a fight. Over nothing, except you being a fool. Which I will forgive, if you’ll just tell me why. But it’s just a fight, Rumplestiltskin. And lots of people have fights. But you get to make up after them. You get to say sorry and explain yourself and then there’s forgiveness, which seems much sweeter afterwards.” cheeks flaming, Belle thought of her parents after a fight. They’d always seemed much more…. Affectionate. 

“Forgiveness?” he blinked, having apparently never heard of such a thing. “You’d…. Forgive me?” 

“I do all the time,” she said impatiently. “For interrupting me when I want to be ignored and ignoring me when I try to interrupt. For all the strange stains I get out of your shirts because you just refuse to take the time to put on an apron. For your sharp wit and sharp tongue, especially when I am undeserving of either. And for the cruel things you say and do when you are not yourself. Except you have to explain to me why.” 

“Make…. Up?” he still seemed to have been clubbed over the head. Frowning, Belle snapped her fingers in front of his face. He was usually much quicker than this. Perhaps he was an imposter? 

“Yes, the thing you do when you’re done fighting and you’ve said sorry. Then you get to make up.” 

“What does that entail?” he asked, a hint of his normal sinister mischief back in his voice. 

“I don’t know.” she was about to flounder in deeper waters than she’d ever been in, but she thought she might be able to keep her head above, for at least a bit longer. “If we were my parents, it would be crepes and gifts.” 

“Crepes and gifts?” he wrinkled his nose. “I detest crepes.” 

“Well good. You wouldn’t be getting anything until I got an apology first,” Belle stated, hoping that she’d made it through the worst of it. 

“Do you want an apology or a gift?” he asked silkily and Belle knew better than to start this with him, letting him get her gifts instead of acknowledging his tempers. 

“An apology,” she said flatly. 

“You surprise me, each and every day,” he announced but Belle didn’t detect anger or hatred. In fact, it was more like admiration. “I…. I’ve never said I’m sorry.” 

“Well it is time someone taught you a lesson.” Belle gave him a little smile but he shook his head. 

“No, not like that. I…. I didn’t know that I could give apologies. That’d you’d grant me forgiveness,” he told her honestly and Belle wondered again at what sort of life he’d had, before she had arrived in it. 

“Of course I would.” she sensed that now was not the time for joking or teasing; there was something so vulnerable in his eyes. “It’s me with you forever, right?” 

There was a pause, so long and unending that Belle that thought she’d overstepped somehow, or pushed him beyond something. She held herself quite still, fearing whatever the fallout might be. She didn’t want to lose him now - they had overcome too much together. She didn’t want them to go back. She wanted him to stay with her - and for her to stay with him. 

“Spice.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” Belle wasn’t sure what prompted the sudden change of conversation, until he gave a slight smile and nodded at the tea pots. 

“I seem to be preferring spice.” 

“Ah.” smiling, Belle poured him a cup and then poured one for herself, sitting with him and drinking. 

“I’m…. Sorry,” he said quietly, when they’d both finished their cups. 

“Me too,” Belle responded and he frowned, glancing at her. 

“For what?” he asked quizzically and Belle carefully reached over to take his hand. 

“That I had to be the one to teach you that.” 

“You’ve taught me more than I ever thought possible, Belle.” 

She looked down to hide her smile. 

* * *

“I didn’t expect you to be up here on such a nice day.” Rumplestiltskin’s voice made Belle jump. She turned with a smile to see him leaning against a chair, watching her. 

“I was outside, but I got an idea,” Belle explained. She’d been outside, enjoying the still-warm fall days, reading and eating. But then a thought had occurred to her about just how travel between realms worked and she’d rushed inside to try and verify it. 

“An idea?” he raised an eyebrow, feigning disinterest but Belle saw the flash of hope. He still had not lost the belief that he’d get his son back to him, somehow. 

“Just an idea.” she let him down gently and he waved a hand. 

“No matter. Go outside, soak up the sun while we still have it.” he smiled at her but it didn’t reach his sad eyes. 

“I will.” this wasn’t a real dismissal. Belle knew that he genuinely meant it and two years here had taught her that sunshine was in short order during the winter. She gathered several books under her arms and left, brushing her shoulder against his as she did so. 

Down the stairs, to the lower landing, Belle walked with a spring in her step. Sure, she wasn’t that much closer to helping Rumplestiltskin find his son, but they were trying. Winter would come soon; she’d devote herself fully to research then. But for now, she would laze about in the sunshine and changing leaves. 

She reached out, rather absentmindedly, to try the handle of the door on the landing. She’d fallen into this habit ever since it revealed itself to her. Each time it had been locked and today Belle gave her normal try, then almost fell to the floor when the door unexpectedly gave way and allowed her entry. 

Hastily righting herself, she looked over her shoulder, worried that Rumplestiltskin might have heard her and would come to investigate. Of course, the castle had chosen to grant her access. And the castle was him, when all was said and done. But Belle didn’t want him to think that she was snooping. So she cautiously and quietly shut the door behind herself, stepping into the room and blinking slightly at the gloom. 

It looked much like her bedroom, with the large bed and the wardrobe and a desk, but it had some key differences. A few toys scattered near a chest, for one. The wardrobe, when she peeked inside, already had a set of clothes hanging there, perfectly clean and sized for a young man - a teenager, perhaps. 

And lying there, on the bed, was the soft, golden shawl that Belle had seen Rumplestiltskin holding the night of his remembrance - his son’s birthday. Belle ran her fingers over it, shivering slightly. So this was the room he kept for his son’s return. It was all in pristine condition, if not slightly dark from the lack of any candles and the drawn curtains. When Belle peeked out one covered window, she saw the beautiful valley spread before them, a riot of green, red, yellow, and orange. 

There was something carved in the headboard. Belle reached up to touch the letters, one by one, her breath catching when she realized it was a name. His son’s name. 

**Baelfire.**

A fitting name for a child of Rumplestiltskin, she thought wildly. It became overwhelming personal all of the sudden and Belle pulled her hand back quickly. This was not just some idea for her to mull over. This was a child, a real child. Who had been loved. And wanted. And was missed, so much. 

She took a deep breath when tears threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted to ask Rumplestiltskin about this. She wanted to know the full story. She touched the shawl one last time, imagining a small and bright boy with curly hair and brown eyes. Then she carefully left the room the way she’d found it and shut the door behind her. 

She’d ask Rumplestiltskin at tea, she resolved. A few hours of reading to steady her nervous jitters and then she’d ask him, calmly and politely. What was the worst thing that could happen? She already refused to let him turn her out. 

Tea was made at their usual time and he came into the main hall with a rare smile, picking up his standard chipped cup. Belle, from where she’d been admiring the view, came over to him with a smile and poured herself her own, gripping the cup so that she didn’t reveal her shaking hands. 

“Why did you want me here?” she found herself asking him and he glanced at her over the top of the chipped cup. 

“The place was filthy,” he remarked with a smirk and Belle gave him a look, coming to sit on the table beside him, straightening out her skirts. They both knew that was a lie.

“I think you were lonely. I mean, any man would be lonely,” she said carefully and saw the flicker of something, deep in his eyes. 

“I'm not a man,” he reminded her rather flatly and Belle sighed, but decided to ignore him. She had proof enough that he was. 

“Rumplestiltskin.” she turned to face him so that he could see how serious she was. “I found the bedroom upstairs today. And the clothing, small, as if for a child. The toys. The bed and the shawl. Is it the room you keep for your son?” 

For a moment, he only looked at her queerly and she feared that this time would be like all the others. Except then he heaved a sigh and set his cup on the table, eyes downcast. “It is. For when he returns.” 

“And what about his mother?” Belle asked carefully, the question making her feel as though she was being held too close to a fire - one wrong move and she’d be burned or worse. “Is she lost too?” 

“No,” he said, rather harshly and Belle leaned back in surprise. “My son is just lost. My wife, however, is dead.” 

“I'm…. I'm sorry,” she said lamely. She was not so cruel as to wish death on someone else, but it occurred to her now to feel some sort of relief. She wasn’t sure what role she played in the lives of Rumplestiltskin and his son, but she would certainly feel more at a loss if another woman took up residence here. “So you were a man, once. An ordinary man.” 

“Ordinary,” he scoffed and she managed a smile, reaching for his hand. He drew it back automatically and Belle let him see the hurt on her face. 

“If I'm never going to know another person in my whole life, can't I at least know you?” she demanded in exasperation and saw the way he jumped. Then he leaned forward, eyes wide and searching her face. 

“Perhaps... Perhaps you just want to learn the monster's weaknesses!” he accused her and she managed not to roll her eyes, but it was a near thing. “Nyah, Nyah! Nuh, nuh nuh!” 

“You're not a monster.” she batted his hand away from her and managed to catch it and keep it tucked with hers. “You think you're uglier than you are, that no one will be able to love you.” her heart was fluttering in her throat. She could just say it. Have it all out there. 

Rumplestiltskin stared at her, gaping, like he was at a loss of what to retort. Then, before he could, there was loud booming from the foyer and Belle let his hand go. A visitor then, some supplicant. He gave a little splutter and then spun on his heel, walking for the door. Belle watched his retreating back and when he was gone, she threw her hands up. 

This was all too much. How was she supposed to ask him about his son - Baelfire - when all she wanted to do was tell him how deeply in love with him she was and all the things she would sacrifice for him and how she knew him, all of him, and still wanted him irregardless of all of this? It was impossible.

“Who was that?” she asked in surprise when he reappeared a moment later. It was odd that it had been that quick; usually he wanted time with someone to gauge what they were really asking for and what they were willing to part with to get it. 

“Just an old woman selling flowers.” he had an odd expression on his face as he offered her a beautiful red rose. Belle gave a little gasp of delight. Their roses were done blooming, so this was a treat. “Here. If you'll have it.”

“Why, thank you.” Belle accepted the gift with a curtsey and smile, seeing the way he bowed in response. Feeling unexpectedly giddy, she crossed the room to the cabinet to get scissors and a vase. 

“You had a life, Belle. Before… This. Friends…. Family,” Rumplestiltskin stated hesitantly. “What made you choose to come here with me?” 

“Was it a choice?” she asked lightly, stretching up to get the vase she wanted. 

“If it had been.” his tone was almost…. Strained? She paused to really think of her answer. What if this all had been a choice? Would she make the same one? It only took her a second to know the answer.

“Heroism. Sacrifice. You know, there aren't a lot of opportunities in this land for women to show what they can do,” she told him, clipping the bottom of the rose off and putting it in the vase. The center of the table would do nicely. “To see the world, to be heroes. So, when you arrived, that was my chance. I always wanted to be brave. I figured, do the brave thing, and bravery would follow.” 

“And is it everything you hoped?” he watched her intently as she came to sit beside him again. She wanted to shiver at the heat in his eyes. 

“I did want to see the world,” she remarked thoughtfully. “And I’ve certainly learned more here than I could’ve running a kingdom. The most important part is that I did save my kingdom, my friends and family.” 

“And what about your, uh…. Betrothed?” he asked her carefully and Belle gave a very un-ladylike snort. 

“Gaston?” she asked and he gave a little nod. “It was an arranged marriage. Honestly, I never really cared much for him, it was that my father wanted me to do so.”

“So love cannot come from an…. Arrangement?” he questioned delicately and Belle’s stomach flipped. Love had come though, hadn’t it? She loved _him._

“To me love is — love is layered. Love is a mystery to uncover,” she struggled to explain properly, reaching for his hand and this time, he didn’t pull away. “I could never truly give my heart to someone as superficial as he was.” she burned to tell him everything. But no. She couldn’t. She mustn’t. So a change in subject was needed. “But, um, you were going to tell me about your son.” 

“I'll tell you what.... I'll make you a deal,” he offered suddenly and Belle raised an eyebrow. “Go to town, and fetch me some straw. When you return, I'll share my tale.” with that, he brought her hand to his lips. Belle’s heart skipped a beat, but then he gave her wrist a little twist and her golden bracelet, the one she was so accustomed to now, fell away. She glanced at it, on the table, then back at Rumplestiltskin, who was still looking at her. 

“But….” she said dumbly, still looking at the bracelet. The one that bound her to him. “You trust me to come back?”

“Oh, no.” Rumplestiltskin released her hand and sat back, a resigned sadness about him. “I expect I'll never see you again.” 

Everything was a blur to her. She gathered her cloak and a basket, walking through the grounds of the castle and out the gate. Halfway down the path, it occurred to her that if this really was the last time, she should say goodbye. To her things, to the gardens, to Phillip, but it was too late now. 

The path below her felt unsteady. Everything was moving too quickly but also too slowly, like this was all but a dream. She could run and never come back. Or she could return and tell him everything. She could change the terms of their deal. Her head spun with the possibilities - with the choices of it all. 

She hardly heard the carriage behind her until it was almost too lately and she stumbled into the ditch before she was crushed beneath the hooves of the large black horses. She was righting herself with a face peered out at her. It was a woman - obviously a high lady, with a fine black dress and her black hair slicked up and away. 

“Did my carriage splash you?” she asked in concern and Belle looked down at herself, unharmed. 

“Oh. Oh, no, I'm fine.” 

“You know, I'm tired of riding. Let me stretch my legs and walk with you for a spell,” the woman declared grandly and Belle was mute as she climbed down and came to take Belle’s arm with a smile. Belle gave her a shaky one back as they started down the road. At least her new companion stopped her racing thoughts. That is, until she gave a little nod towards the empty basket Belle had slung on her other arm. “You carry very little.” 

“I don't want to be slowed down,” she found herself explaining. The most valuable thing she had was on her - the necklace from her mother - but there were plenty of things left at the castle that she’d wished she’d taken if she was going to flee. Or they’d all still be there when she returned. Whatever she chose.

“Mm.” the woman gave her a reassuring pat. “You're running from someone. The question is, master or lover?” she asked with a little laugh and Belle looked at her, shocked. Her expression must have given her away, because the woman sobered. “Oh. Master _and_ lover.” 

“I might take a rest.” Belle felt lightheaded. This was all too much. She needed time to process all of this - alone. “You — you go on ahead.”

“So, if I'm right, you love your employer, but you're leaving him.” the woman was still there and it occurred to Belle, in some distant corner of her mind, that this was all too odd. That she knew too much. But it was also the first person Belle had been able to talk about this and she found herself spilling everything to her. 

“I might love him,” she admitted, hands quivering at acknowledging the very thing out loud. “I mean, I could, except…. Something evil has taken root in him.” 

“Sounds like a curse to me, and all curses can be broken,” the woman said soothingly and Belle glanced at her. How often had Rumplestiltskin said the very thing? “A kiss born of true love would do it.” 

Belle stopped dead in her tracks. She loved him - surely, she did. But would he love her back? He had to for it to be true love. And could she ever know his true feelings? “I….” 

“Oh, child, no.” the woman laughed and recaptured her hand. “I would never suggest a young woman kiss a man who held her captive. What kind of message is that?”

“Right,” Belle agreed, now a bit suspicious. Had she said anything about her deal with him? But even then, she wasn’t a captive. 

“Besides, if he loves you, he would've let you go,” the woman continued airily. “And if he doesn't love you, well then, the kiss won't even work.” 

“Well, he did let me go,” Belle argued.

“Yes, but no kiss happened,” the woman corrected and Belle felt hope wash over her, like the sun coming back after too long behind the clouds. Could she do this? Free him of his darkness and madness? So that they could be happy?”

“And a kiss — a kiss is enough? He'd be a man again?” she demanded quickly, dizzy with excitement. 

“An ordinary man. True love's kiss will break any curse,” the woman assured her and Belle was too busy turning this notion over in her head to see the satisfied smile that curled over the woman’s face. 

Belle got straw from the stall across from Letty but didn’t stay to say hello. She had a castle - and a Rumplestiltskin - to return to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know you guys are loving the enchanted forest but i gotta get to this sometime!!! reviews are blessings


	19. walls were meant to fall and dams were meant to break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't have much to say on this one folks 
> 
> just enjoy!

The voices were circling in his mind once more. They were crying out at the sure loss of Belle, for he’d pushed away the only good thing in his life. Then they were purring, glad to be rid of the troublesome, distracting minx that she was. Then they were panicking, for Belle was part of the grander scheme to get Bae back - wasn’t she? 

But there was no changing the past now. For better or worse, he’d let Belle go. She could be long gone by now. The sun had well and truly set, but still he stood in his tower, staring at the gates. He knew she wasn't coming back. She had no money, except a cloak with gold spun into it, and no protection, except for the promise of his name, and no idea which way was home, except for the maps she’d been studying for months. 

She wasn’t coming back. 

She wasn’t coming home. 

His heart was breaking and she wasn’t going to be there to put it back together. 

He was a fool for sending her away so late in the day. Even if she had made it to the village _(she hadn’t, she was running away)_ it would’ve taken her some time. And even if she had bought him straw _(she hadn’t, she was leaving him)_ she might’ve gotten distracted saying hello to everyone. And even if she had turned to head back towards the castle, _(she hadn’t, she was gone forever)_ it would still take her just as long to trudge back the mountain path, in the cold and the dark. 

He stood, solid and quick as a statue. This was the post he would keep, until she was safely back with him. 

His thoughts were just cycling back to the truly nasty and dark when he suddenly realized that someone was walking up the path towards the castle. Shocked into action, he sharpened his gaze to allow him to see that far, realizing with a jolt that the figure was small, shapely, blue, and carried a basket on one arm. 

_Belle._

All sense fled his mind. He, the darkest and most powerful of sorcerers, ran for the stairs. Somewhere between the first landing and the last he regained enough willpower to stop himself from throwing open the door and welcoming her home with open arms. No. He would be at his wheel, spinning. Acting as though nothing was amiss. 

Yes. That would be fitting for him. 

“Oh, you're back already. Good. Good thing.” he spun the wheel faster than he should, ignoring the mighty creaking from it. “I'm, uh... I'm nearly out of straw.” 

“Hmm.” there was an expression on Belle’s face that he could not read, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the wild, manic energy pulsating through him or the fact that she did look truly bewildered. She crossed the room to come over to the wheel and put down her basket. “Come on, you're happy that I'm back.” her eyes sparkled. 

“I'm not unhappy,” he retorted, witty as a default, since his blood was thundering in his ears at the sight of her. Was this all a dream? Was it some trick? He could not fathom her returning so willingly, so easily. 

“And, uh, you promised me a story,” she reminded him, putting her hands on his shoulders and briefly pressing her cheek to the back of his head. He felt as though he was going to implode at the very scent of her. 

“Did I?” he didn’t even bother to hide the hoarseness in his voice. 

“Mhmm.” Belle reached over and took the thread from his hand and sat down beside him on the wheel, blue eyes beguiling. He licked his dry lips, sure that if this was a dream, he’d kill whoever tried to wake him. “Tell me about your son. Tell me about you.”

Everything else washed away. All his trepidation. All his fears and doubts and fits, they slipped from him like water in a storm when Belle placed her hand on his knee. He looked at her, at the first person he could ever remember who willingly chose him, and then his story came out, piece by piece. 

His birth in the winter. His abandonment by his father. The spinners. The mockery. The marriage. The war, the seer, the injury - and then his son. Everything that had come after - the pirates, the war again, the blade with the name. Zoso. 

His weakness. His fear. His cruelty. The way Bae had screamed for him and what he’d given his child up for - for power. For this. He told her of his regret and his determination to get his son back. His dark curse. His discovery of her, of the things she could do. And how he had only had one purpose for so long - to fix the mistake of Bae. 

“I have regretted that day, Belle, in a way you cannot imagine,” he told her brokenly and felt Belle’s hand slid up his neck until it rested on his cheek. 

“And since then, you've loved no one, and no one has loved you.” she gave him a sympathetic look and he couldn’t stop himself any longer. He leaned forward, trying to glean some sort of future from her eyes, desperate to catch her in a lie and prove himself right, that he was an unlovable thing. 

“Why did you come back?”

“I wasn't going to.” Belle was plainly honest, as always. “But then…. Something changed my mind.” 

“What?” he asked, hardly daring to hope. Belle’s lips quirked up into a smile and she slowly leaned forward. All of his breath deserted him at the thought of what came next. He had ample time to prepare himself. 

Yet when Belle’s lips brushed his, it was still as though he was falling from a very high distance and there was no notion of when he might crash. 

She was…. Honeydew. 

She was spice and tea. 

She was sunshine dancing with falling leaves. 

She was fresh rain and grass stains. 

She was Belle. 

She was his. 

He moved forward to deepen the kiss. Belle yielded before him and he found himself pressing one hand into the small of her back and the other in her hair. The hair he’d found himself smelling, wishing he could roll a lock between his fingers. It was thick and curly, one lovely glory on a woman full of them. 

He was going to faint. Nevermind that it wasn’t possible to do so as the Dark One. Belle cast everything else out. Just her, this warm girl in front of him, kissing him. The beast. Her captor. Her choice. 

He’d never kissed anyone like this. Not Milah. Not the women who sought to solve their problems with a quick fuck, which he’d taken full advantage of early on. Not Cora. No. He wouldn’t even waste time thinking such things, not when Belle was here. His perfect, wonderful, feisty, completely present Belle. 

“Rumplestiltskin,” she gasped when she pulled away and his lips still wanted hers, following her, desperate for more. He felt control leaching out of him, but for once it wasn’t from anger. It was from joy. 

“Belle,” he keened and both her hands were on his shoulders. To push him away or to steady herself, he could not say. 

“I…. I think I love you.” her admittance brought a lump into his throat. He closed his eyes and leaned forward so that his forehead met hers. 

How did he deserve this? 

He couldn’t give her his answer, but he could certainly show her. He gathered her up into his arms and sat her in his lap, where he could fully kiss and pet her. He would be completely content to do so until the end of time. 

Except his kisses were getting less and less chaste. He couldn’t help it; Belle might be a virginal maiden but he was not. He’d known need and passion and release and now his body was craving it, after so long of denying himself. And he had Belle, surely the most beautiful and wonderful of all creatures. How could he restrain himself? 

He did his best. He kept his shaking hands tight on her waist lest they go roaming. He let himself kiss her lips, her cheeks, her jawline, the spot where her pulse fluttered in her neck. But he didn’t let himself go lower. He didn’t dare. It was hard enough stopping where he was at right now. Any more and he would lose himself entirely. 

The other problem was that Belle was a quick study. She evidently saw the way that he paid attention to the hitches in her breath and was now doing the same to him. When she caught his earlobe in her teeth and gave a tug, he nearly dumped her off his lamp in surprise and arousal. She took this as encouragement and went for his neck, finding precisely the most sensitive spot to press her lips. 

“Belle,” he croaked, strangled. 

“I want this,” she whispered back. “I want you, Rumplestiltskin.” 

Well, this would not do. He should not deflower his maid. He should not deflower a highborn princess. He should not deflower the best thing that ever happened to him. 

At least, not on the spinning stool in the main hall. No, Belle deserved more. 

He magicked them to his bedroom before he could talk himself out of it. He held Belle close to him, closing his eyes. He didn’t want to see her reaction, to see her horror when she realized how far he wanted things to go. 

But she didn’t say a word. When he cracked an eye, he found her watching him instead, as though he was the one to worry about. As though she needed to get permission from him. Quizzically, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against her nose, trying to gauge her feelings. 

The hunger with which Belle recaptured his lips nearly drove him to his knees. 

She kissed him, harder now. Like she was eager to prove just how far she was willing to go. He didn’t want to rush her, but it was impossible to slow down when she kissed him, again and again, her entire body quivering. Her hands were in his hair now and then sliding down his neck. He mirrored her subconsciously until it occurred to him where this usually led. 

“Belle,” he groaned, when she pressed herself flush with him. Embarrassment flooded through him; she’d certainly have felt his current predicament at about waist height. Still a man, indeed. But to his surprise, Belle gave a throaty little chuckle. 

“I did study anatomy,” she assured him, sounding both a little ashamed and a little amused. “I’ve just…. Never seen such a thing not on the pages of my books.” 

“Tell me to stop,” he begged her, his traitorous hands already going for the strings that held her dress up. Belle tossed her hair over her shoulder with a defiant shake. 

“No,” she stated firmly and he moaned when her hands found the hem of his shirt and lifted. “No I won’t, because I want you. I want you.” 

“Do you know this is?” he asked desperately. He would not steal her innocence, not if she was oblivious to what this was. But if it was her gift to give, and she did so freely, then…. Well, he wouldn’t have much restraint after that.

“Yes.” Belle’s cheeks were flaming and he loved her for it. “I did hear the kitchen maids gossip, you know.” 

“This is not kitchen gossip,” he reminded her urgently and Belle’s hands took over for him at her bodice while her lips pressed to his once again. 

“No,” she whispered, “this is just the two of us.” 

He brought his hands to her waist and pulled her, gently, to the bed. He sank down on the edge, watching as Belle divested herself of her dress, until she stood in just her shift. With hands that trembled, he went to extinguish the lights. Belle looked up and he saw the flash of hurt across her face. He froze, instantly alert for anything that might upset her. 

“Belle?” he asked her in concern and she bit her lower lip. 

“Do you not wish to see me?” she whispered and he briefly closed his eyes. What a woman. 

“I didn’t think you would wish to see me,” he answered her and Belle’s lips curled up into a slow smile. 

“I do want to see you,” she informed him with a slightly mischievous smirk. “All of you.” 

“I am a monster.” it was his last feeble, protest. “An ugly beast.” 

“No.” Belle’s arms wrapped around him. “You’re simply you.” 

He pulled her into the bed with him. It was his room - his real room. It was built more for function than for style, but the fire was roaring in the gate and he had pillows and blankets piled high. He would not have a whisper of a chill to disrupt this.

Now his kisses really were born of an urgent, almost frantic need. But he made himself slow down; for what the brothels had been worth, they had taught him that women were different creatures entirely. Had he known the things he knew now back when he’d been a man, perhaps Milah wouldn’t have left him. 

He cast the thought from his mind. Belle was what mattered now. 

He kissed down her throat, hearing her hum of surprise. Then he discovered her collarbone, and the little hollow there. Carefully, he reached down to catch the hem of her dress and lifted it up and over her head. She shivered when the fabric left her skin bare and he automatically drew her into his arms. Belle kissed his jaw and he left his hands ghost slowly over her goosebumps, distantly amused when his touch raised more. 

“I’ll ruin you,” he warned her, kissing the crease of her neck and shoulder. 

“No one decides my fate but me,” she answered and he captured her lips with his own. Brave, foolish, lovely girl. And all his. 

He kept his wanderings slow, ready to halt should Belle protest in the slightest. It was a nearly impossible feat, given the enticing way she gasped and squirmed, depending on where his touch carried him. He was used to women faking or over exaggerating - why would they show honest pleasure when it was clear that his touch repulsed them? But Belle was different. She was true. 

The sight of his dark hands on her smooth, pale skin made him nervous. Reminded him that he was a beast and a demon and that she was still a mortal woman, but it didn’t seem to upset Belle at all. She moaned when he took one small breast in the palm of his hand and then down the flats of her stomach. She shifted to press herself closer to him and he bit back a cry as her hand brushed the erection between his legs. 

He flipped her, a touch inelegantly, so that she was on the bed and he was kneeling before her. Belle looked up with some alarm, but only at the loss of contact apparently. She touched his cheek and then when it was clear he wouldn’t abandon her, let the hand drop. 

“Did the kitchen maids tell you about this?” he teased her, to hide the strain. He needed to get away from her for a moment - otherwise he was going to lose himself over her like some green boy. 

“No.” she looked equal parts apprehensive and excited, a flush high on her cheeks. “What do you - oh!” 

He had divested her of the rest of her undergarments. Now she was well and truly naked, reclining before him. He leaned his forehead against her knee for a moment, fighting down the beast inside him who screamed to mark her as his, to take her fully and completely, to have her. No, not without pleasing her first. That was what mattered. 

He kissed along her inner thighs, enjoying the creamy skin there. Ahead of him was Belle, but he was taking his time. He would not startle her. Not when they were so close. He paused when he reached the joint where leg met hip and looked up at her. 

Belle responded by threading her hand with his. 

Slowly, like he had all the control in the world, he leaned forward and pressed one last, final kiss to Belle’s center and then he fell apart. 

He was attuned to the noises Belle was making. If she gave even the slight hint of discomfort or pain, he would stop immediately. But she did not - she was gasping and moaning, one hand squeezing his tightly and the other fisted in the sheets. It was with a prideful smile that he gently pressed his tongue into her. 

She was wet. So wet. Proof of her honesty, of her willingness. Indisputable proof that she wanted him. So he kissed her folds and then wiggled his tongue between them and Belle gave a shriek that she clearly tried to muffle. That wouldn’t do. He wanted to hear her screams. He wanted to be the one who inspired them. 

A tender flick. A suck. And, when he felt that she was absolutely ready for him, he slid one finger in her, just a bit, to crook it and find a deep, hidden pearl that made Belle breathlessly cry out. Just when he wasn’t sure how much long he was going to be able to hold out, for the ache between his legs was painful, Belle suddenly stiffened and then began to shake slightly and he watched, with true astonishment, as she reached her climax. 

There was nothing in the world that could compare to the pure pleasure that was watching Belle, panting, staring at him in astonishment. He felt smug satisfaction at the hazy amazement in her eyes and when he straightened up over her, he felt the sort of power he’d never felt from being the Dark One. What a rare beauty she was - in every way. 

“Thank you,” she muttered, like it was the first thing to occur to her and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to kiss her. 

“It’s me who should be thanking you, darling, always,” he replied and Belle broke into a slow smile. Then her blush was back and she ran her hands down his sides, making him shiver bodily. 

“The kitchen maids didn’t tell me about that,” she said softly, “but they told me what came next. I’d…. I’d like to do that for you, Rumplestiltskin.” 

“Are you sure?” he’d be asking her that question until the end of time, incredulous at her picking him. 

“Yes,” she promised, kissing him again and then setting her quick and nimble fingers at his leather pants. He could just magic them off and away, but there was something to be said for the exquisite torture of Belle’s hand brushing his cock. 

“Oh,” he gasped, when Belle finally got him free. For a second, she looked rather at a loss of what to do. Then, tentatively, she reached out and grasped him, not tightly but enough for him to exhale all his breath in one, long hiss. 

“Does it hurt you?” Belle asked him with evident concern and he struggled to get his voice to work. 

“No. Yes. _No._ It’s a good hurt.” he tried to give her an encouraging nod and Belle began to move her hand in a slow rhythm up and down. He leaned back, seeing stars. It was a good thing that he seemed to be in a state of shock, for if he hadn’t been, he might’ve wasted himself in Belle’s hand. 

Right. There was something he wanted, desperately. He had to ask, in case she had changed her mind. He stilled her hand and she looked at him, understanding unfolding on her face when she saw the naked hunger there. 

“What do I do?” she whispered and he pulled her close, so that she was straddling him. Everything in him wanted to strain and buck upwards, calling that sweet surrender, but Belle was too good for that. He carefully aligned himself with her, waiting for his head to stop swimming. 

“Lower…. Yourself. When you are ready,” he managed to instruct her and Belle did so, gasping as she slid over him. He couldn’t stop the moan that went out; Belle was clearly going at a pace that wouldn’t hurt her, but as more and more of him entered her, it became harder to control the urge to thrust. 

“It feels…. Good,” Belle said with some surprise and he gripped his fingers into her hips to stop himself. “I thought it was supposed to hurt terribly.” 

“Only when you’re not ready,” he moaned, gritting his teeth. Belle shifted experimentally and he gasped for air. 

“Yes?” Belle had a wicked smile on her face now. Such a fast learner, she was. He wasn’t sure if that boded well or ill. 

“I….” but he had no words. And when Belle began to rock on him, he pressed his lips to hers and lost himself in the bliss that she was. 

He managed longer than he had thought he would, enough time to be suitably impressive. Belle was still atop him but had long ago lost any teasing; they were both sweating, gasping now. He clawed at her, winching when he knew he would leave marks on her but unable to stop himself. And when she brought her lips to his neck and gave him a soft bite, he pushed himself as deep in her as he could and buried his face in her neck, unsure if he was overjoyed at his release or at the fact that she was here at all. 

He held her close in the after, two heartbeats side by side. Belle tucked herself into his side and gently traced the patterns in his skin, like they were fascinating instead of disgusting and his mind lost itself, imaging the future. Her, his lady. Her, the mother for the son he loved so much. Them, and more nights like this. 

“Would you tell me his name?” Belle asked finally and he stopped laying kisses along her hairline. 

“Baelfire,” he stated softly. “I called him Bae.” 

“Bae.” Belle smiled and turned to look at him. “Bae. It’s a good name.” 

He looked at her incredulously, the only person he’d trusted in centuries. Belle smiled and stretched up to kiss him. 

It was as though he’d been dunked into warm water. He blinked several times, trying to figure it out. He’d never felt like this after sex. He turned to Belle in bewilderment, only to find an expression of shock and joy on her face. 

“What’s happening?” he asked her, a little dumbly and Belle beamed, clasping his cheeks with both hands. 

“Kiss me again, it's working,” she instructed.

“What is?”

“Any curse can be broken.” Belle’s hands touched his skin - his skin, not scales? “By true love’s kiss.” 

“What?” he retracted so suddenly, the warm feeling disappeared abruptly as though ice water had been dumped over him. “You…. You sought to break my curse?” 

“I - she said that the kiss could work - I wanted - I thought you --” Belle was stammering and he spun on a heel, pointing a finger at a curtain. It was ablaze a moment later, but his magic was reacting sluggishly, like it had been disappearing and was now only coming back. He heard Belle’s squeak of fear as he rounded on her. 

“Do you know what you could’ve done?” he roared, the rage and fear overwhelming any rational sense in him. He was no longer Rumplestiltskin. He was fully the Dark One now. “You ignorant brat!” 

“What did I do?” Belle cried, drawing the covers up and over her naked chest. Once, he might have cared to assure her fears. But not now. Not after this betrayal. 

“I knew this was a trick,” he spat.” I knew you could never care for me. Is this you being the hero and killing the beast?” 

“I would never -- It was working--” she tried to defend herself but all he could think about was the loss of his power. 

“You thought to rid me of my magic, of my only way to return me to my son?” he demanded and had he been in the right state of mind, he might have seen the way Belle’s face fell and her chin started quivering. 

“I wasn’t thinking about that, I just -- I love --”

“Shut up!” he snarled before she could utter more lies and Belle tried to rise from the bed and approach him. 

“This means it's true love!” she insisted, the sheet draped over her. He could not stand the sight of her, the memory of what they’d done here and then how she’d nearly betrayed him. How he nearly lost everything. 

“Shut the hell up!” he bellowed and Belle tried to touch him, anguished.

“Why won't you believe me?” 

Her touch after such a betrayal was too much. He lashed out like a wounded animal and caught her in his hands, shaking her, crying out. “Because no one-- No one could ever, ever love me!” he threw her to the floor and left, locking the door behind him. 

Once she was gone, he let his world crumble down around him. 

Belle. His Belle.

Of course the best thing to ever happen to him would lead to his downfall. Of course. That was how it had always been, hadn’t it? He got a small, fragile bit of goodness. And he broke it. That was his way. That was his lot in life. The utter, amazing, cosmic unfairness of it all. It was almost laughable. 

He couldn’t love Belle. He couldn’t. It put everything he worked for at risk. She knew that Bae was the most important thing to him. She knew that! He thought she understood. He had to pick power over her. He had to, because it was for his child. The most important thing in his life. The most important thing ever. 

He had picked Bae over Belle.

Not magic over Belle. 

Right? 

He paced the study, trying to ignore everything in here that reminded him of Belle. The stacks of books. A blanket thrown across a chair. A lingering, half drank mug of tea. The little things everywhere. She had invaded his life. She had invaded his mind. And then she’d tried to break him from the inside out. 

Not even destroying things made him feel better. So his option appeared to be the very thing that he’d been dreading. He held very still as the realization washed over him. Part of him was very calm. The other was a mess, rioting at the very notion of it. 

He had to give Belle up. 

He loved her. And that made her dangerous. 

Long, calm steps brought his back to his bedroom. He took a deep breath and shut down any emotion rising up, then unlocked the door. Belle was sitting on his bed, dressed again and with blue eyed fury. He turned his back on her; he couldn’t look at her or his weaknesses would overwhelm him once more.

“So.... What are you going to do to me?” her tone was cold and biting. Once, it might’ve made him smile. 

“Go.” he gestured to the door. 

“Go?” her anger slipped into confusion for a moment. 

“I don't want you anymore, dearie.” he kept his tone perfectly level, to not show her any emotion. That would not do. He heard the swish of her skirts as she seemingly walked past him. Then, silence. He waited to hear her steps fading, but then they got louder again and Belle came to stand nose to nose with him, beautiful in her anger. 

“I wasn’t trying to take your power away. I would never do that.” she jabbed her finger into his chest. “You know you were freeing yourself. This isn’t about Bae. You’re just being selfish. You could have had happiness if you just believed that someone could want you. But you couldn't take the chance.” 

He narrowed his eyes at her, wishing that he could kiss her and strike her, all at once. “That's a lie.”

“You're a coward, Rumplestiltskin.” another jab to the chest, as though her words didn’t cut him deep. “And no matter how thick you make your skin, that doesn't change.”

“I'm not a coward, dearie. It's quite simple, really.” he got his words out from between gritted teeth. How badly he wanted to crack. He drew on all his strength to not break apart and try to bring her back. “My power.... Means more to me than you.”

“No. No, it doesn't,” Belle said firmly. “You just don't think I can love you. Now, you've made your choice. And you're going to regret it.” for the first time, her voice trembled. “Forever. And all you'll have.... Is an empty heart….“ her voice broke, “and a chipped cup.” with that, she stalked out of the room.

He held himself very still. It was only when she was well and truly gone did he close his eyes to stop the tears. 

When she was well and truly gone, he let the beast take over once and for all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T YELL AT ME PLZ
> 
> i've tweaked the lore to TLK slightly (obviously). i wanted rumple to tell belle his whole story, not the short sentence in canon. and i feel like rumple's biggest show of love would be to tell belle everything about bae. when he tells her his son's name, that's him revealing that he loves her enough to trust her with that. 
> 
> next chapter will actually be up early, wink wink, and hopefully that will make this all the easier. i promise that this story is not angst!!


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